


Falling to the Wolves

by Eunioa, Nutella0Mutt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Beta Hunk (Voltron), Beta Matt, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Love Triangles, M/M, Mentions of Death, Multi, Omega Lance (Voltron), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Panic Attacks, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Slow Burn, Smut, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Whump, alpha voice, shaming, voice of reason Hunk, werewolf government
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 80,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eunioa/pseuds/Eunioa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutella0Mutt/pseuds/Nutella0Mutt
Summary: The forest is dark with negative energy. Seeing at night is of no concern to a wolf, but darkness is not the only thing that may dim the woods. Creatures and beasts of all types live among the trees; some good, most benevolent, and a few bad. But cruelty is stronger than kindness, and the balance of the energy shifts and sways. Tonight, evil settles among the shadows, and the trees whisper warnings to heed.Before him is a prone figure bathed in red. Shiro can’t identify their color, so he gently noses the wolf’s head aside, trying to reach the scent glands. The tilted head reveals the gore at the neck and shoulder, and Shiro flinches. A gaping bite wound is still oozing sluggishly, half the gland torn brutally. But there's a heartbeat. As the alpha returns to his human form and gently lifts the wolf, Shiro hopes that he can save the poor creature from whatever caused this horror. Maybe with Lance's help he can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

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* * *

“On a scale of one to ten, with one being ‘I’d love to,’ how-”

“Eleven.”

Lance tossed a disgruntled look over his shoulder and took his best friend's brisk interruption as a personal affront.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he whined.

Hunk just shook his head, _didn’t have to,_ and crossed his thick arms over his chest to further accentuate his resolve. “You were going to ask me how much I want to follow them, weren’t you?”

Lance snapped his fingers and said, “Bingo,” with a hopeful smile that instantly deflated at Hunk’s disapproving frown. “Oh, come on!” He complained. “You’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you’re not even the slightest bit interested in where they’re going? In who _made_ them?”

“Okay, first of all,” Hunk pointed to his shoes. “I’m standing. And second of all, no matter how much I would love to investigate those tracks with you, I rather like having my _head_ attached to my _body_. So can we please just go now?”

Hunk reached down to grab at where Lance had resumed his earlier prodding, but the smaller man simply shrugged off his coercing palm and continued sniffing through the underbrush curiously.

The tracks had started a good two, three, three-and-a-half miles North from their usual hunting ground and had cut through the land nearly a mile out from their pack house during the night. And he assumed night only because the current outline of the oddly formed prints had begun to dry around the fresher mud still wet against the forest floors.

Human?

The creature was definitely bipedal from what he could tell. But there were breaks in the stride and changes in the prints that widened into that of an all too familiar paw.

As if...

“There’s blood.”

Lance whipped his head up at the revelation and wondered why he hadn’t smelt it before. Blood should’ve been the first thing his senses picked up on when he stumbled along the tracks. But considering Hunk, who was crouched down a few paces ahead, had to raise a hand up under an overgrown fern and press his nose to the limb hesitantly, just to get a slight whiff of the fluid, meant there was an element to it that was abnormal. That something unnatural was at play here. It made Lance’s hackles rise.

“It _smells_ human,” Hunk winced. “Sort of.”

Lance cocked his head. “What do you mean, _sort_ of?”

Because the scent was either there or it wasn’t. There was never any in between.

For example, if Hunk were the one bleeding in this scenario, there would’ve been a distinct difference between his human scent and the rugged blend of something else that gave away his species with no more than a twitch of the nose. Their smells didn’t necessarily blend like that. More often than not, it was a detectable hint.

Lance walked over, careful to avoid scuffing up the fresh trail, and leaned down to sniff at the offered greenery the same way Hunk had done.

It was unpleasant, that was for damn sure, but it wasn’t like it was anything Lance hadn’t come across before.

The scent of a human was palatable in its mix of subtle earthiness and pronounced metal, but there was that dividing edge to it that reeked. Like a festering sickness. And Lance couldn’t think of a time he had ever come across a creature that smelled so naturally suppressed. Like someone had put a rag over his nose and cut down on his range.

“I think we should tell Shiro.”

Lance cringed away from both the suggestion and the confusing blend of smells to stare out at the vast, crowded acreage in contemplation.

“I think we should track them first,” Lance countered. And when Hunk let out a groan, he turned to him instantly. “What if they’re really hurt, man? What if they need help?”

Hunk slapped a palm to his head and looked back at their well-worn hunting trail miserably. “We don’t even know what _they_ are, Lance. What if it’s dangerous? What if it was hurt for a _reason_?”

Lance worried his bottom lip in response. He knew Hunk meant well, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to agree. Whoever this was couldn’t have made it far in the state they were in. And even if they had, Lance was sure he could catch up in no time before the poor thing keeled over and succumbed to its...wounds? Terminal illness?

Lance dragged his eyes down to glare at the flattened fern at his feet and sought out the inconspicuous drops of blood dark against the vibrant green. He scented the air again, just to get an estimate on the trails staleness, and figured it had to be less than a day old. A night’s trek at most. If he made a run for it now, he’d most definitely be able to catch up to the mystery scent before Hunk had the means to stop him.  

“Okay, stop right there. You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea after the crap you put us through last month.”

Well, no. He actually thought it was a brilliant idea, but the look on Hunks face told him he felt otherwise and the beta had already gone for the ultimate low blow by bringing up the past. So Lance frowned as he watched his opening to flee dwindle right before his eyes.  

“There is no way in hell I’m going to let you run off like that again. Not after last time, Lance.”

Lance kicked at a rock shamefully and swung his hands at his sides. “It wasn’t _that_ bad,” he tried.

But Hunk sputtered until he went red in the face and screeched, “I got _night_ watch. For _two_ weeks.”

Lance winced.

“I missed so many cooking episodes that I still haven’t caught up to them completely. Not to mention how badly I got my ass handed to me once Shiro realized you were gone.”

Lance raised his hand up in defense and argued, “It was only three days,” but Hunk bulldozed on with a flustered expression and an accusatory finger pointed to the tip of his nose.

“A day more and you would’ve gone into septic shock, Lance.”

And there it is. The killing blow.

Lance felt the responding twinge of phantom pain twist up his right ankle from where the bear trap had severed cartilage and snapped bone. Sure, it was all healed now, but not a day went by that it didn’t flare up when he was stressed or overworked. Acting as a constant reminder that told him he had no room to argue because Lance knew that Hunk had a point. It was a ‘boring and playing it safe’ sort of point, but it was a point nonetheless.

“Fine,” Lance relented with a pout. “But we are not telling Shiro about this.”

Hunk dropped his hand with a sigh of relief and looked down at the Northbound footprints that wouldn’t be a means for discussion later tonight. All they had to do was not tell Shiro.

“Wait.”

Hunk hurried to catch up to where Lance had started his trek back to their scouting trail and tried to form a coherent sentence in the whirlwind of his thoughts. Sure, he had successfully kept Lance from running off to moon-knows-where, but now he had to go through the struggle of convincing him that they needed to come clean with their alpha.

Lost in the weighing of his persuasions, Hunk tripped up on a loose rock, caught himself on an oak tree, and picked up the pace to fall in line with Lance’s long stride.

“Why aren’t we telling Shiro again?” Hunk asked, ducking under a stray branch and forfeiting watching Lance’s expression in favor of watching where he put his foot next. “I mean, isn’t this the kind of thing we _should_ report back after a scout run?”

Lance tilted his head side to side with a hum. Then he shrugged. “Probably. But Shiro has enough on his plate as it is and I don’t think following a dying trail is worth the panic.”

Hunk looked down this time to catch Lance’s warm smile and returned it ten fold with a flash of teeth.

“Besides,” Lance said with a wave of his wrist through the air, “If anything comes of it, I’m sure we can handle it on our own without getting him involved. Something smelling that weak would be no match for your bulging muscles.”

Hunk shied away from Lance’s groping hands with a bashful snicker and tried to keep an eye out for hidden dips in the dirt lest he misstep and roll an ankle. Though he was incredibly light on four legs, Hunk was surprisingly horrible at keeping his balance on just two, so he stayed close to his best friend and kept up idle chatter as they emerged from the tree-line laughing.

“Crap,” Hunk said suddenly. “Shiro, twelve o’ clock.”

Lance immediately flicked his eyes up in the direction Hunk was nodding to and raised a brow at the approaching figure in question. Shiro didn’t normally interrupt their patrols, especially when they went in pairs. He wasn’t the paranoid type.

“What if he smelled the blood?” Hunk whispered. Then he gasped, “Oh moon, what if he _saw_ us by the blood?”

Because if there were two things their alpha was, it was incredibly intuitive and scarily perceptive.

Lance was reminded of this as he fixed his gaze on the approaching alpha and quickly pasted on a welcoming smile that twitched guilty at the corners, but held strong nonetheless. “Just play it cool, man. It’s not like we did anything wrong.”

Per se.

Which was exactly why it made it just a little unnerving to watch the alpha come jogging up the gradual incline looking slightly flustered and unkept. Two things that were highly unusual for Shiro, and had Lance fighting the temptation to tease the man about it.

But it’s the look in Shiro’s eyes that keeps him from blabbing. The tinge of desperation.

Lance swallowed his nagging comment and immediately racked his eyes up and down in search of the underlying discomfort layered thick on his alpha. It was one of the things Lance took pride in as an omega: his ability to detect stress.

And when Shiro came to a stop just a few feet away from the two, nodding to both of his pack mates in greeting, Lance could smell it coming off of him in waves.

“Hunk. Lance.”

Both men gave a gentle nod and a breathy, “Alpha,” in response that had Shiro’s inner  companion preening at the show of respect; still not quite used to it yet. And though the returned greetings weren’t nearly as cheerful and boisterous as their usual welcomes, Shiro couldn’t be bothered to dwell on the little things given his current time constraints.

He’d deal with it later.

“I need you two to cut your patrol short today and head back down to the house immediately.” Lance’s lips popped open in question and Shiro, prepared for it, held up a hand and motioned for him to settle. “I know you two just got out here, but this is important. The FLI sent out an alert warning at-risk territories of a rogue in the area and I’m worried about your safety. Pidge’s even more being left unprotected.”

Lance clicked his teeth together and glanced at Hunk who glanced at him as the two of them shared a silent conversation.

That explained the foreign trail they came across. But Lance hadn’t thought about it belonging to a rogue. It certainly didn’t smell rogue.

Lance swallowed any further objections bubbling in his throat and focused back on where Shiro was watching them patiently. There was a time and place for everything, and right now? Right now was not the time nor the place to bring up their mystery creature.

Especially now that they knew it belonged to another were.

“Do you think it could be Matt?”

Shiro scrubbed a hand through his hair and flashed Hunk a wince of an expression that Lance worked out as a smile. There was tension in his movements, a rigidness in his stance, and when Lance moved forward, he did so with all thoughts of his earlier schemes falling away behind him. He let his calming pheromones waft out, and grabbed one of Shiro’s arms to rub in a soothing manner.

“We’ll keep Pidge safe, Shiro. Focus on what you have to do, okay?”

Shiro hit him with a soft look that made Lance’s heart skip a beat in his chest. He praised himself internally, taking the moment as a silent win before the alpha moved his gaze to Hunk and waved him closer. “I won’t be longer than two days, but until then, don’t worry about patrolling and call me if there’s an emergency. And I mean that Lance. You’re fast, but there’s no outrunning a rogue. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, alpha,” they said dutifully.

A wave of relief flickered across the man’s features and he reached out to pull Lance in for a thorough scent marking. Lance willed his blush away. He knew it was standard protocol when the alpha left. Part of its purpose was to soothe Lance in his absence, as an upset omega meant an upset pack.  Its other purpose was to protect him, as Lance was an unmated omega, and a much sought-after one at that. There was nothing intimate about it, Lance tried to convince himself. Instead, he took a deep breath and basked in the scent of his alpha. Shiro always knew exactly what he needed.

Finished, Shiro pulled in Hunk for his. It was a much simpler affair, as betas did not need as much care, but before Shiro released Hunk, he gave his friend a long, meaningful look. He was putting Hunk in charge of the pack, entrusting everything to him. Shiro was not one of those alphas that had a hard time giving up authority and nitpicked at every little detail. But he was an adoring one, with so much love for his pack that the thought of any harm coming to them was a regular source of stress. Fortunately he had nothing but faith and trust in Hunk, and that was a huge comfort to all. Hunk nodded solemnly in reply, accepting the responsibility, and gave Shiro a firm pat on the shoulder.

Shiro nudged his packmates in the direction of the pack house.

“Be safe,” he called.

And before either of them could ask him to wait, Hunk watched their alpha shift into his wolf form and take off in a dead sprint into the forest. The beta didn’t consider himself a small guy by any means, but in both human form and wolf, Shiro had him beat. Shiro’s wolf was pure black, ripped with muscle, and he ranked as the largest wolf in the region. Hunk considered himself truly lucky to be in the pack of such a great alpha. As Shiro bounded off, Hunk turned to his best friend Lance, and watched the omega see their alpha off with a knowing look on his face.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Lance started, coming back to himself, and blushed at having been caught.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lance spoke nonchalantly and spun on a heel towards the direction of their pack house.

Hunk followed along. “You always get a little awed whenever Shiro shifts. It’s okay, everyone has a crush on Shiro. Even _I_ think he’s pretty damn impressive.”

Shaking his head to clear it, Lance sighed. “No, it’s not that. His wolf is just so...gorgeous. And yours, too. Hell, I bet even Pidge will have some awesome coloration.”

“What are you getting at, Lance?”  Hunk asked concerned. He knew his friend had some doubts and insecurities about himself, but this one was new. Was he bothered by how he looked?

“It’s dumb. Don’t worry about it, Hunk.” Lance crouched forward, knees bent and arms braced out, and Hunk knew he was about to shed his skin, too. “Race ya home! Loser has to do the garbage the next two days!” And with that, Lance shifted. Sharp claws sprang from his fingertips and silver fur rippled along his back as he threw himself forwards. By the time he touched the ground, Lance was fully transformed into a sleek silver and gray wolf. He took off running, howling happily at the rush of it all.

Hunk hastily crouched down on all fours, and let his inner wolf loose. His arms and legs grew first, elongating, and then ruddy-colored fur burst out across his tan skin. Transformation complete, Hunk gave himself a shake and sprinted after Lance. He was always envious of Lance and how quickly he could shift. The omega had the fastest transformation in town, able to change mid step, between one second and the next. His shifts were graceful and gorgeous. Hunk himself knew he always looked like an exploding cream puff when he shifted, puffing out his fur in a rather comical fashion. But even as he hurried after Lance, he couldn’t help but give a yip in delight. The shift was always a rush of endorphins and a feeling of pure liberation. As Hunk returned from the wolf mind to his proper sense, he wondered what his friend had been thinking about. He resolved to keep a close eye on Lance for the remainder of the day. Between the concerning blood trail they found, Shiro’s distress, and Lance’s funks, Hunk was going to have a lot on his plate tonight. And not in the yummy way. Hunk was the pack beta, and that meant he was in charge while Shiro was out. His pack was relying on him to keep everyone safe, and Hunk was not going to let them down.

* * *

Keith groans. He is not a newcomer to pain. Keith knows how to take hits, soldier through long-lasting aches, and how to push himself to his limits. But this...

With a gasp, Keith manages to roll on to his side, and regrets it immediately. This pain is _burning_. It flares and spasms, leaving him panting and shaky as it floods his system. He’s faintly aware his body is going into shock. Spots cloud his vision and his ears are ringing so loud it hurts his head. Keith tries to wrangle come sense back into focus. He was hurt, yes, but how? What happened?

A vision comes to him unbidden. Glowing yellow eyes hunting him. Sharp talons scratching up and down his arms. Fangs piercing the sensitive skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Just thinking of it makes the pain spike. It’s radiating out from that same area at the base of his neck. Was it all just a dream? A nightmare?

From his new position, he slowly lifts a shaking hand to his neck and presses. Amidst the agony he’s dimly aware that his fingers slide in the wetness gushing from there. It’s a relief to lower his hand back to the ground, and he doesn’t bother looking at it. He can smell the sick tang of blood in the air. Keith should try to get help. He knows this. Somewhere he’s got a phone and he’s close to town. Someone’s sure to hear him if he hollers. But he’s so tired. And cold. And hurting. Keith wants to let go and hide someplace inside. There’s safety there. And warmth. A comforting rumble vibrates through his body. A soft presence is there, welcoming, and Keith falls into it, finally at peace.

* * *

The forest is dark with negative energy. Seeing at night is of no concern to a wolf, but darkness is not the only thing that may dim the woods. Creatures and beasts of all types live among the trees; some good, most benevolent, and a few bad. But cruelty is stronger than kindness, and the balance of the energy shifts and sways. Tonight, evil settles among the shadows, and the trees whisper warnings to heed.

The enormous black wolf dismisses danger in his urgency, but his hackles raise instinctively. There were rumors of a rogue wolf in the woods. Brown, with hints of red, and a scar on its face. The lead was too good to give up; the description too close.

Shiro slows to scent the air, his senses confused in the oppressing miasma. Fortunately, Shiro is quickly back on the trail, assisted by the downwind. Memories come to him as he continues his pursuit. He’s looking for a dear friend from his childhood years, but he’s been chasing phantoms for months. Tonight might be yet another one, but Shiro can’t risk it. It had been his fault, after all.

As familiar as he is with the smell of blood, he’s still taken aback when he comes across the scene abruptly. It’s _everywhere_ , and the scent is overpowering. There’s the normal copper tang, but the recognizable smell of wolf is also there, along with the stink of fear, pain, and violence. Whatever happened here, it was bad.

The black wolf slowly approaches the prone figure bathed in red, ears perked for the slightest danger. It’s in wolf form, likely transformed under the duress. Shiro noses the still wolf. It doesn’t move, but there’s a faint heartbeat. Still alive, then. Relief floods Shiro’s system before he can stop himself. The fur is soaked with blood so he can’t identify the color, but the size is about right, and as Shiro sniffs along the body, he picks up the musk of male. Only one thing left to check. He gently noses the wolf’s head aside, trying to reach the scent glands, but the tilted head reveals the gore at the neck and shoulder, and Shiro flinches. A gaping bite wound is still oozing sluggishly, half the gland torn brutally. He can’t smell anything due to the fresh blood, but what’s left of the gland is enough for Shiro. It was originally large, meaning this wolf is either an alpha or omega. This is not Matt in front of him, but Shiro can’t help but be relieved. As the alpha returns to his human form and gently lifts the wolf, Shiro hopes that wherever Matt is, he is far, far away from whatever caused this horror.

* * *

The first thing Lance needs to do once they return to the packhouse is check on Pidge. Unlike the others, she was more vulnerable. And it had nothing to do with her being a girl; Pidge would be the first one to knock you out cold if she heard you talking about her gender. No, Pidge was 18, still in school, and she hadn’t yet presented. That meant she couldn’t shift, either. All born werewolves had one of three designations in addition to their gender: alpha, beta, or omega. When a wolf came of age around the average 18 years, they developed their secondary gender, and the ability to fully transform into a wolf. Pidge had just turned 18 in April, and had two more months until she graduated. Her brother Matt was a beta, and presented late, as had her mother. Late bloomers just ran in her family, so Pidge wasn’t expecting to find out her designation for a while.

It was about a month after Matt’s disappearance when Pidge ran away from home and was lost in the woods. Pidge knew her brother was still out there, and she was desperate to find any information she could on missing and disappeared wolves. Her parents, on the other hand, came to accept Matt as gone, and mourned. Pidge and her family had argued daily, until finally, she took matters into her own hands and went looking for her brother. It took two days before Shiro, Matt’s best friend, found her and took her in.

Pidge was hurting too much to return home, so when Shiro offered to accept her into his pack, her parents happily agreed. She still visited home now and then, but was flourishing under Shiro’s care, given the support and space she needed.

However, Shiro had needed a pack and a house, and that was where Lance and Hunk came in. All hopeful packs needed to be registered with the FLI in order to receive official pack status, and the protections and benefits that came with it, including property. An alpha wanting to establish a pack needed one of two things: a mate, or an omega. Only then would the FLI accept the application. Their reasoning was that a young pack needed stability for the mental and emotional health of all members. An alpha mate could provide that stability. If there was no alpha mate in the picture, the alpha could register if he or she had a willing, committed omega. Both alpha mates and omegas were well-suited to handling the load of emotional responsibilities, while the alpha was in charge of the physical ones.

So Shiro had come to Lance. That day was one of the happiest moments in Lance’s life. There was no bonding involved in establishing a pack, and in modern times any wolf could mate any designation. But Lance’s inner wolf sang with delight when Shiro had asked if Lance wanted to help him establish a pack. A desirable alpha coming to a willing omega. Lance always was a romantic.

Lance had been crushing on Shiro for years in school, and Shiro returned those feelings up until he had graduated, but the two had never entered a more formal courting stage after their high school years ended. Courtship occurs between two wolves interested in one another, and was similar to the human concept of dating. During this time, the wolves spent time together, exchanged gifts, asked for blessings, and if they both wanted, had sex. Wolves that went through a successful courtship could decide to mate, which was a sexual act where they bonded to one another by knotting and bite marking each other’s scent glands. Once the bond took, the mating mark was used to help the pair register as official mates with the FLI.

While Lance would have loved to be claimed as Shiro’s mate, that was not the reason why the alpha had come to him. Lance’s omegas abilities were strong and well-honed. He had been raised in a huge pack with terrific alphas, loyal betas, and excellent omega role models. It was only expected that Lance should turn out to be an omega prodigy.

“You’ll be such a great help to her, Lance. And to me, too,” Shiro had said, his expression open and unguarded. “But only if you want to. I know you have a big, loving family at home.”

He was right, Lance did. But he couldn’t help the excitement that was bubbling within. Here was a chance to do something good for another. He wouldn’t be trying to find a place for himself among 50 other wolves and follow in someone’s footsteps. He could just carve his own meaning with Shiro. And maybe, if things settled down, he and Shiro could, too, Lance’s wolf helpfully supplied. Shiro was a desirable mate, after all.

The next day Lance agreed to sign on as Shiro’s pack omega. And everywhere Lance went, Hunk followed suit. Lance’s pack and Hunk’s pack were lifelong friends, and it was only a matter of time until the two boys became thick as thieves. You wouldn’t find one without the other. Everyone expected the two boys to start a courtship, but while Hunk and Lance absolutely adored one another, they were not interested in becoming mates. As soon as Lance announced Shiro’s offer, Hunk gave him a huge hug, tearfully explained how proud he was of Lance, and immediately went to pack his bags. Hunk came along to the FLI the next day for the signing, and the officials were very pleased when he signed his name next to Lance’s. An alpha, beta, and omega. The perfect combination.

Shiro, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge had been a pack now for seven months, and with the FLI’s support, lived in a gorgeous house with more than enough rooms for everyone. A big part of that was due to Shiro’s reputation, as everyone expected Shiro to either find or make a huge pack, but Hunk’s signing on and Lance’s skill also helped them secure a desirable property. It was on the outskirts of Ravenwood, right at the edge of the forest and near a lake. Their pack house was nestled near the base of a mountain, and the peak gave an excellent view of the stars, the moon, and the valley, like something out of a painting.

It was quiet.

It was peaceful.

But the serenity of it all was quickly broken as Lance stood up on the tips of his toes and draped himself along the kitchen counter to better see his pack mate’s laptop screen. “Did you find it?”

Unsurprisingly, it was Lance who had made it home first, much to Hunk’s chagrin, and he’d left the beta to his garbage disposing duties as he kicked off his muddy shoes and shouted into the empty house.

Well, empty save for Pidge.

Lance nudged at the girl for the umpteenth time and tried to read her stoic expression. “Earth to Pidge,” he waved. “Pidge, did you-”

“Lance, if you ask me _one_ more time if I’ve found it, I swear I’m going to scream.”

Pidge followed her threat with a smack to Lance’s prodding fingers and flashed him a _serves you right_ sort of look when he jut his lip into a pout.

It wasn’t his fault.

Having Shiro gone was stressful enough as is, but knowing his alpha had left tense and on his own? It was more than enough to have Lance’s instincts going haywire and his inner wolf shifting restlessly at the outer edge of his mind.

Pidge gave a punctuated tap to her keyboard and announced, “Got it,” with a victorious smirk.

Lance instantly perked up and ignored the girl’s huff of frustration as he rounded the marble and shoved himself half onto her seat.

She frowned. “Really?”

And Lance ignored her in favor of gesturing to the screen with an impatient noise. “What does it say?”

Pidge nudged at her glasses, knowing her complaints would fall on deaf ears, and scrolled down to skim over the bulk of the alert. There was the standard greeting, a quick line about how the FLI was working to ensure the safety of its members blah, blah, blah. And it wasn’t until Pidge had hit the halfway point did she jump and highlight the bold font for Lance to zero in on.

 

 **Emergency Alert** 4: 19 AM

Rogue Warning level 4 in effect for the following territories.

Avoid all hunting trails and gathering hot spots until further notice.

All rogue activity should be left alone and reported immediately.

 

It was about as standard as the FLI alerts got, but it had Lance gulping nonetheless as he flashed Pidge a calculating look.

After leaving Hunk behind in the front yard, Lance wasn’t in the least bit surprised to find their youngest pack mate hunting through the seemingly endless array of messages surfacing in Shiro’s inbox. Their alpha had made it known right off the bat that any and all updates concerning rogue, injured, or runaway wolves was information privy to the teen just as set on finding her brother as Shiro was, and he’d done a great job keeping the girl informed on every single one of his work ventures.

So as soon as the rogue alert went out, Pidge was up and searching database after database to see if any more recent sightings had surfaced. To see if they had released the threat level yet.

“Level fours change, Pidge,” Lance said softly. He could see where her eyes continued to flicker about the message, trying to find something she had missed during her first read, but the level four stayed solid in its intent and made her hands curl into tiny fists.  

“It isn’t Matt.”

Pidge snapped her laptop closed and pushed off the edge of the chair to stalk into the living room in a desperate need to leave the words behind her. She ignored where Lance was hot on her heels as the front door slammed shut in passing and deposited Hunk onto the hardwood floors with an exerted huff.

He tugged at his laces. “You know the least you could do after filling up the trash bag is close it up and tie it off, man. Last nights alfredo spilled every--woah.” Hunk stepped back as Pidge zipped by and he threw Lance a bewildered expression that had the omega pausing in his pursuit. “What’s happening? Is it about the rogue Shiro went after?”

Lance nodded. “It’s a level four.”

And that was all it took to have the beta’s confused frown deepening into something sorrowful as he cast a sympathetic look Pidge’s way. The girl had already curled up in Shiro’s chair, eyes shadowed and lower lip pinched between her teeth, and she flicked through a few mindless documentaries before growling in frustration and tossing the remote off to the side.

“Those change, don’t they?”

Lance nodded, “All the time.” But that didn’t take away from the weight of what it meant.

Threat levels one through three essentially translated to wolves worth saving. Be it bloodlust or a rut gone bad, the mind has not yet been overpowered at these stages and still has means to be subdued. Persuaded. The risk would escalate, but there was a higher chance the individual could pull out of it if taken care of immediately.

A level four, though...

“Shiro wouldn’t euthanize him,” Hunk said quietly. But a flicker of doubt crossed his features and he glanced at Lance. “Would he?”

“Of course not, Hunk,” Lance said incredulously, and he hastily turned towards his brooding pack mate with a soft chirp in his throat to calm. Pidge didn’t yet have the ability to reciprocate the usual sounds and physical behaviors of a presented wolf, but she was steadily becoming more in tune with her inner instincts as she hummed in response.

“I know you’re worried about Matt, Pidge,” Lance murmured; reaching out a hand and settling it on the girls ankle in reasurance. “But if anyone can bring down a level four, it's Shiro. And if it is Matt, I _promise_ you, we will do everything in our power to make sure he pulls out of it safely. Okay?”

Hunk came up behind him and offered his own sound of comfort as Pidge scrubbed beneath her glasses and flashed them a thankful look. A look that vanished quickly, but one Lance saw nonetheless as she sat up.

“You sure you’re not just saying that because you have a thing for Shiro’s muscles?”

Lance felt all further sentiment die in his throat as Hunk let out a bark of laughter and hit Pidge with an amused high five that left the girl snickering.

“Out of nowhere,” Hunk hollered.  

Lance turned back with an accusatory glare and smacked the beta upside the head. “I do _not_ have a thing for Shiro’s muscles,” he hissed, but Pidge just tossed her head back and clutched at her stomach with a snort. “I don’t!” Lance shrieked.

Hunk patted at his best friend's shoulder with a suppressed smirk and called to the younger girl. “Alright, alright. Cut him a break, Pidge. The love of his life just left and now he doesn’t-”

Lance drilled a pillow straight into Hunk’s face and listened to the string of cackles behind him as his best friend yelped and craned his neck in submission.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Lance. I was just--ow! No biting!”

* * *

It was getting darker. And colder. He could feel his essence fading. Keith tried to burrow further into the illusion of warm fur; a comfort in his final moments. Keith thought he might have regrets, but he couldn’t remember any of them. The suffocating panic gave way to resignation, just as his choking breaths slowed to faint wheezes.

Then a warm nose nuzzles him, then gentle hands stroke along his body. The touch is gentle, but it makes pain flare up on his numb body.  Blearily, Keith opens his eyes, but he sees nothing but black so he closes them again. A whimper escapes him. He just wants to go. He just wants peace. Suddenly, a blanket of comfort washes over him, alien in its misplacement. A nudge.

 _Go ahead,_ it seems to say. _I got you._

Tears leak from Keith’s eyes as the agony vanishes. An angel of death is releasing his spirit. Finally.

His struggle was over. His time was up.

He was done.

He could rest.

 

Keith lets go.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

An alert rings out, shattering the quiet night and disrupting the thin layer of calm that had only just started to overlap the settled apprehension. It’s an alpha call asking for immediate assistance. _Help_ , it says. _Emergency._

It’s Shiro.

The tension inside the house peaked in the chaotic rush of bodies scrambling to heed their alpha’s plea. Hunk, who had been elbow deep in the oven, was the first of the three to register the distress and was up and bounding out the door before Pidge could so much as call his name. His fur had puffed with anxiety because he knew Shiro wouldn’t be calling for help if he didn’t absolutely need it, and as pack beta, Hunk was the only one currently physically capable of handling half of whatever load his alpha had stumbled upon while on the job. Shiro needed his pack and he needed them now.

The second Hunk disappeared, Pidge jumped up and tore through the downstairs bathroom ripping open cabinets, gathering towels, and diving for the medkit last minute when the flashy red caught her eye. She chucked a bottle of rubbing alcohol straight into the living room and Lance was there to intercept its spiral as he snatched it up and ran into the kitchen to push chairs aside. He kicked the oven door shut, whirled around, and swept an arm across the table knocking a candle, miscellaneous paperwork, and the vase of flowers Shiro had gotten him earlier in the week onto the hardwood with a dull thud and a scatter of petals.

“Towels,” Lance called hastily.

Pidge stumbled her way towards him and deposited an armful of his demand in a spill of fabric that she quickly spread out and layered efficiently. She skirted around Lance’s uneasy form, yanked open the medkit to start laying out a handful of gauze, and started tossing him other medical supplies that they would definitely need given the edge to their alpha’s call.

An edge that has Lance bracing himself against the table, squeezing his eyes shut, and leaving Pidge to her work so he could get started on his. Shiro, or someone he was with, was hurt. This is Pidge and Lance’s speciality.

Lance zones in on the packmind and he’s immediately hit with a familiar wave of strained concentration that could only belong to Shiro. He’s keeping a cool head, but Lance can already tell his alpha is going to experience a huge emotional drop once the intensity of the crisis passed. Once the adrenaline finally shivered it’s way out of him during the night, it’d leave him tense and in need.

Hunk must reach Shiro then because Lance feels the surge of both relief and anxiety palpable through both of his packmates. The beta will have flares of it popping up throughout the entirety of this ordeal, but Lance is already coming up with a gameplan to keep the worst of it at bay while they work.

Same way he was doing with Pidge.

The teen was painfully hopeful and frustratingly void of any preparatory acceptance should this be yet another disappointment to mark down in the books. She _wanted_ it to be Matt.

But Lance can already tell from the intense feedback of Shiro’s emotions that this wasn’t her long awaited brother. So without opening his eyes, he speaks to her.

“It’s not him,” he tells Pidge, and the scuffling comes to a dead halt not a second after. Lance cracks an eye open to catch where she had taken to staring at a bottle of disinfectant and he swallowed around the lump in his throat when he followed it with an, “I’m sorry, Katie.”

And much to her credit, Pidge only pauses in her work, taking a moment to adjust the fit of her glasses before steely determination settled deep in her eyes and had her nodding.

“It’s okay,” she reassures. “We’ll find him.”

Then she returns to her task and works quickly to douse a handful of cotton balls in antiseptic.

Lance waits until the worst of her disappointment fades into a dull throb before he mentally wraps around his pack in a warm embrace, starting with Pidge, and quickly reaching out to where Hunk and Shiro were rushing back as quickly as they could. He inhales deeply, holds it, then exhales, pouring out _reassurance, calm, and love_ as strongly and fiercely as he can.

His pack breathes with him.

 _Thank you,_ they whisper.

And then Hunk and Shiro were pouring into the room, arms full of injured animal as Pidge rushes out to slam the door shut and trail them back into the kitchen where they all gather ready to work to their fullest capacity.

Lance rolls his sleeves up and kneels down into a chair as Hunk helps Shiro lay the limp ball of fur flat onto the table with its head facing his waiting palms. He reaches out, trailing his fingers gently along the snout, back between its ears, and worked to ensure the wolf stayed calm while his pack began emergency procedures. Their unknown patient isn’t fully conscious, so Lance sets to work on their inner wolf, sending reassurance and encouragement to ease the pangs of panic sparking in their thoughts. The wolf is spiralling under so many unfamiliar scents, but he’s quick to tell them that they are all friendly.

 _We’re here to help you,_ he tries.

But the wolf he’s reaching out to cowers, tail between its legs and ears flat, and it tucks itself back into a scared, shivering ball with a soft whimper. Lance doesn’t want to corner it, so he leaves him a moment and nudges around the werewolf’s loudly projected thoughts in search of...anything really, that might help him. Anyone worth their salt knows how to keep their mind free from prying omegas, but Lance was not your typical omega, and this werewolf was wide open with fear.

They’re an open book.

Lance doesn’t even have to prod all that much before the walls tremble and come crashing down in a blindsiding cloud of agony and confusion.

“Shit,” Lance blurts, and his pack members flinch around him, seeming to have forgotten his presence in their focus. Lance prided himself on being able to keep silent in his work, but his discovery is vital to his packs well-being and the well-being of their current emergency.

“I don’t think he was born a were, guys,” he says.

Shiro looks up from where he is frantically wrapping a forelimb and flashes him a look of distress. “What?” He asks tightly.

Lance eases a hand down the bulk of the wolf's throat to direct their attention downwards and parts the blood-soaked fur. “The bite on his throat,” he gestures. “Shiro, nobody would cause that kind of damage unless they were trying to change him or kill him.”

Hunk fumbles with a padded muzzle and does his best to avoid the weeping wound now visible in the better lighting. “What about a mate mark?”

Shiro helps the beta buckle the straps and glances down at the covered bite as well. “I was so busy trying to identify him that I didn’t even think about that,” he winces. “Which means we’re going to have to find his sire then. Or would it be his mate? Dammit.”

Pidge shakes her head gently and examines the worst of the mauled flesh with a steely look. “What sort of nurturing sire would inflict that sort of bite, Shiro? And even if it _was_ an act of survival turning, the alpha that bit him didn’t do it to save him. They did it to kill him. Look at this! His glands are practically ripped clean off!”

Lance leans up and Shiro and Hunk follow suit as Pidge grabs a soaked towel and cleans at the area of matted fur and blood. It doesn’t look bad at first, but as soon as Pidge begins shaving at the clumped areas and clearing an opening to get a better clean, it was obvious the wound was worse than they initially thought.

Half of the scent gland was severed; ripped open in gaping holes where sharp canines had punctured, then tore free taking cartilage and sinew with it. The skin of the wolf’s throat had been cut open as well and Lance could only sit there and wonder how the poor thing had survived this long.

Pidge’s gloves come away bright red.

“We need to take him to the FLI,” she says seriously.

But Lance immediately shakes his head, _no_ , and clung tightly to the injured wolf. “The FLI won’t be able to do anything for him.”

“Lance, _we_ can’t do anything for him. He’s bleeding out. I don’t have the necessary tools here to-”

“Then we’ll get some.” Lance cuts in; desperate now. “We can get some.” He looked to Shiro with a pleading glint in his eye and tried to sound as persuasive as he could manage. “Shiro, you _know_ the FLI will take one look at him and call him a goner. They never waste resources on something they think is a lost cause. He’ll die if we take him there, I know it.”

“Lance,” Hunk places a hand on his shoulder. “He won’t do any better here. Pidge is right, we don’t have the supplies to help him. The FLI will at least make it comfortable for him when he-”

“Please.”

Shiro looks down at him, lips parting slightly before he snapped his mouth closed and stared at the wound pumping blood sluggishly into the compress Pidge had made out of a thick towel. He worked his eyes along the wolf’s twitching frame, gauged Pidge’s sympathetic expression, and met Lance’s own desperate one with a weakening to his resolve.

“Please, alpha.” Lance breathed.

And that was all it took to have Shiro pressing out a quiet sigh and giving a pat to Hunk’s shoulder to get the beta moving. “Take Pidge into town. Help her get what she needs and then get back here as fast as you can. Lance and I will keep the blood stemmed and tend to his other injuries while we wait, alright?”

Lance jumped up and immediately took over as Pidge stepped back and removed her gloves with a _snap_. She took a moment to help him position his hands over the towel, searching for the adequate amount of pressure, and thanked Shiro quietly before hurrying after where Hunk was making a beeline for the car keys.

“Keep him alive until I get back!” Pidge called.

Then the door slammed shut.

Their mystery wolf whimpered.

And Lance breathed out a vow that he would.  

* * *

Pidge and Hunk had been gone for over half an hour when Lance finally noticed the amount of times he was having to change dish towels was dwindling. The first towel lasted five minutes. Then the next one took ten to soak through. Then it was fifteen minutes later, and he was just getting a new one. His first instinctive thought was that his mystery wolf’s heart had stopped pumping blood throughout his body. That these were his dying moments and he could no longer survive off the measly pace that his circulatory system was providing.

It had Lance scrambling for a pulse, and Shiro jumped up from the far end of the table where he had been tending to the hind leg as the omega shoved his hand up under the wolf’s head, then sank back in his chair with a shaky sigh of relief. Shiro came to stand by Lance.

“Lance?” Shiro called gently, placing his hand on Lance’s neck and stroking gently near his scent glands.

Lance shook his head in response. “I-I thought I was losing him for a moment. The blood flow slowed dramatically.”

His alpha perked up then. “That’s a good thing right? That means he’s getting better?”

And Lance...Lance didn’t really know.

Whoever had turned him had done so long enough ago that his healing factor had begun to develop. The puncture marks in various places along his body were already beginning to knit themselves back together, and the nasty break of his ankle was no longer a concern any time they accidentally brushed it. And though his scent gland was taking it’s time healing into a nasty scar, his body had done enough to stem the worst of the nicked artery so his heart could keep working strong.

Stronger than it had been when Shiro first brought him in.

“He’ll be better once we stitch his neck up,” Lance said quietly. He ran his fingers along the wolf’s snout, feeling slightly guilty about the muzzle, but the action was soothing enough in his intentions that the wolf grunted softly in his sleep and twitched his hind legs.

He’s...cute.

“Where did you find him?”

The question had been nagging at Lance for the better part of the night, but he hadn’t had the courage to ask. Especially when Shiro had been so emotionally and physically compromised in the beginning. But even now, with their mystery wolf relatively under control, Shiro looked slightly wounded having to relive the worst of the evening when everything had only just started to calm down and for a moment. Lance assumed he would ignore the question completely.

But he was their alpha, and his pack had a right to know.

Shiro pulled up an extra chair and plopped down beside Lance with a sigh. He registered the slight flinch on the omega’s part, the surprised jump of his shoulders as their knees knocked, but he didn’t take offense once he caught a glimpse of the faint pink hot at the tips of the man's ears.

A simple familiarity he takes comfort in.

“Do you remember when went hunting last summer and you tripped and fell into that creek?”

Lance flushed completely red this time and turned to Shiro with a look of mortification. “Excuse you,” he huffed, “I vividly recall you _herding_ me into that creek, you sore loser.”

Because Shiro had learned quickly that Lance was _fast_. And frighteningly so.

It was the first time Shiro had taken the omega out on a midnight hunt without the pressure of living up to pack standards. They’d spent most of it wandering throughout the forest, stalking small game, and howling back and forth just to hear the resonating echo. Shiro had caught a rabbit not an hour in and had taken great pleasure parading his kill in front of Lance. He flicked his tail in the omegas face, nudged under his snout more than a few times, and it wasn’t until Lance was growling his annoyance and steadily working his way away from the bragging alpha did Shiro’s ears perk in growing amusement.

Shiro had nipped at him, demanding Lance give him his attention so the alpha could drop down onto his forelegs and wag his tail eagerly. A prompt that had Lance doing the same before the alpha lunged and sent him sprinting through the trees.

The hunting trail had become a distant memory as Lance kicked up dirt and did his best to outrun his gaining alpha. Because even though Shiro had bulk to him, Lance was far leaner, and he had the ability to dodge and change direction so quickly, that Shiro would be left stumbling a few paces behind him as he tried to fix his trip up.

Shiro had taken his speed as an interesting challenge and quickly countered with his knowledge of the land. Lance hadn’t had the chance to venture far out in the surrounding forest and he was having to wrack his brain in search of what direction would be best to take next.   

Lance had vaulted over a fallen oak tree, yipping his ego, and heard his alpha’s trailing footsteps die off soon after as he was met with the large obstacle.

 _Let’s see you get over that_ , Lance had snickered.

But all previous boasting went flying out the window as a thundering of footsteps and heavy panting clipped him from the left and sent him stumbling over a short dip in land that dropped him down into a freezing run of water.

“It wasn’t freezing, Lance,” Shiro laughed. “It was summer.”

Lance tried his best to keep his hands secured at the wolf’s neck below him and resisted the urge to throw them up in exasperation. “I was soaking wet, running through a shaded forest in the middle of the night, Shiro. Damn right I was freezing. And it was all because _you_ couldn’t handle the thought of losing to a lowly omega like-”

Slim fingers brushed warm against the shell of his ear and stopped him in his tracks. He froze, heart rate spiking as heat flooded his face. And Lance couldn’t even think to finish his sentence as Shiro cocked his head thoughtfully and finished tucking a stray curl behind the curve of Lance’s ear carefully.

“Not lowly,” Shiro chided in a gentle tone.

And before Lance could combust, or better yet, think of a comedic retort, Shiro drew his hand back and sobered once more.

“That creek cuts into the Olkari territory North of here,” Shiro explained. “It’s why I had us turn back once you shook off.”

A tease of a smile caught the corner of the alpha’s lips, as if he were trying to lighten the mood before he nodded down at the wolf and continued.

“The warning the FLI sent out included their territory. Reports of rogue sightings had been pouring in since morning, so I followed the creek, crossed paths with a few of their pack members on the way, and they told me they intercepted an unknown scent trail about a mile out.”

Lance worried his lower lip and wondered if now would be a good time to tell the alpha that the trail had run close to the house. But a shadowed look crosses Shiro’s expression, and he immediately saves the admission for a later time.

“I found him pretty quick after that. There was,” Shiro sucked in a breath. “A lot of blood. So much that I couldn’t tell if it was Matt or not, and I just kept thinking about how I was going to have to--to _explain_ to Pidge why I couldn’t bring him back here. I didn’t want her to see him like that. _I_ didn’t want to see him like that so-”

“Alpha.”

Lance pressed himself close to Shiro and let out a soft purr to calm him. He didn’t need to know all the gory details. Not if it was going to send Shiro into a panic like this. So he kept up the purring and waited until Shiro’s lungs didn’t stutter so bad before he moved away. Close enough that he was still touching Shiro, but far enough so the alpha felt like he had some room to breathe.

“I don’t think he was bitten to be killed,” Lance murmured suddenly.

Shiro took the break in the conversation gratefully and engaged in what Lance was bringing up with growing interest. He remembered the omega saying something about the peculiarity of the bite wound. About how-

“It’s not a mating bite, then?”

Lance winced at the implications of such a scenario and ran his hands along the wolf’s fur sympathetically. “It might be. But the puncture wounds aren’t clean, Shiro. They’re torn. Like he was thrashing around when it happened.”

“He was trying to get away,” Shiro realized with growing dread.

Lance felt equally unsettled as they eyed the ugly wound on the wolf’s neck and tried to think of a case where it hadn’t been forced.

But the exit wounds, and the broken nails? The evidence all pointed one way.

“Go help Pidge and Hunk,” Shiro said suddenly, and not a second after did Lance hear the sound of rocks crunching under the weight of the car’s tires. The alpha nudged gently at his arm and gestured towards the door quickly. “I’ll watch him,” he reassured. “They need you.”

Lance got up, never one to go against orders, and spared his alpha a concerned look before he did as he was told.

He needed to tell Pidge he had kept his vow to keep the wolf alive.

* * *

What Lance can’t provide as pack omega, Pidge provides with human intellect and with studied knowledge of anything and everything werewolves. That’s why she was the perfect person for their current job. In her absence, Lance had been using his quick thinking and the extension of his wolf to help their mysterious one, but that still didn’t account for the rapid blood loss and the gaping wounds that still needed immediate attention.

Pidge had spent the better part of two hours working tirelessly alongside Lance to seal up the violent bond bite and bandage the awkward angle of their mystery wolf’s hind leg. And though he had stayed unconscious through the entirety of the process, he had begun to show more signs of life in the way he twitched and huffed about under their deft and skilled hands.

Finally, they were done.

“He’ll live,” Pidge announced before she sagged back in her chair and fussed over her bloody gloves with a distasteful frown that had Lance reaching over to help tug them off. The relief at hearing the news was a fleeting thing as Shiro warily looked around and took in the state of his pack. All of them looked ready to pass out.

Pidge more than anyone. And she had school tomorrow.

So Shiro started by ushering the teen to her room. He kept a steady hand on her shoulder and did his best to wrangle her out of her bloody sweatshirt before directing the teen to take a quick shower and wash off any remaining sweat and blood. Once dried and dressed, Shiro tucked her into bed properly and took care in removing her glasses before thanking her for working so hard and planting a kiss to her forehead.

He hovered by the light, wanting to wait until her breathing evened out, because there was no point in rushing these things if he was just going to agonize over the safety of his pack mates later on in the night. Doing this right the first time meant he could rest without worry. That his inner wolf would settle knowing they were safe.

And once Pidge began snoring, he huffed in satisfaction and cracked the door gently.

She was always the easiest to coax down.

Lance, on the other hand, was still in the kitchen when Shiro came trudging down the stairs. He appeared to be on the brink of crashing even as he argued with Hunk, who was begging him to go lay down. Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. Shiro could sympathize. He knew Lance’s omega instincts were going crazy right now. _There was a hurt wolf that needed him,_ they were likely screaming at him.

“I-I can take first watch,” he insisted. “Hunk, I’m not even that tired.”

“Tired or not. You need sleep,” Hunk said, placing his hands on Lance’s shoulders to still him. “I’m not arguing with you, Lance. Go get cleaned up. _Rest_.”

“Hunk-”

“ **Lance**.”

The omega stiffened at Shiro’s call, then relaxed into Hunk’s hold as whatever fight in him finally shivered out through the twitch of his fingers.

“Fine,” he relented. “But you have to get me if he wakes up. Promise me.”

Hunk steered Lance towards Shiro and watched as he fell into the alpha’s open arms with a huff. Shiro rubbed up his back and nosed at his throat before nodding towards his room and repeating Hunk’s earlier order. Normally, the pack would pile together in one big snuggly nest, but tonight, they each needed their rest.“I promise,” Shiro said. “You’ll be the first to know, okay?”

“ _Hm_ ,” Lance pouted. But he staggered towards his bedroom nonetheless looking far more relieved and not completely coherent enough to hear when Shiro thanked him for his work as well.

“I’m proud of you,” he called one last time.

And then it was just Hunk and him.

Shiro doesn’t expect the beta to be anything less than what Lance and Pidge were experiencing energy wise, so it comes as a complete surprise when he finds the man looking completely wired and practically vibrating with tension.

“Hunk?”

“I don’t think we should keep him.”

Shiro blinked, slightly startled by the outburst, but didn’t move to stop Hunk from continuing.

So Hunk forged on.

“I know I should’ve told you sooner, but Lance begged me not to tell you and I knew he was right when he said you had a lot on your plate,” Hunk sucked in a lungful of air and winced. “So I didn’t say anything when we found the rogue’s trail. _This_ rogue’s trail. And by we...I mean Lance.”

Shiro’s hackles rose.

And Hunk immediately threw his hands up. “Listen,” he said hastily. “I’m not saying he was out there looking to kill us because he most definitely wasn’t. The trail was stale and we found more than enough blood to figure out that he was wounded enough to not be a threat. _That’s_ why we didn’t tell you.”

“You should’ve,” Shiro scolded. Because when he couldn’t be the one to physically scout, he relied on his pack to relay any and all information regarding their safety directly to him.

Hunk knew that. That’s why he nodded insistently.

“We should’ve,” he agreed. “But now _he’s_ here. And I know Lance is already attached, and when Lance gets attached, _you_ inevitably get attached. So I’m just asking you...to think about this. Really think about it, man. If he’s not the one who’s dangerous, then we need to think about the one who is. If his sire comes looking for him...”

There was no telling what sort of hell that would raise.

Lance had been adamant about the were not being of any danger to them, but the wounds were far too brutal to ignore. There was a real and very high possibility that what Hunk was suggesting could unfold if they didn’t play this right.

If Shiro didn’t protect his pack like he was supposed to.

“We’ll discuss as a whole tomorrow morning once we’ve all gotten some sleep,” Shiro sighed. “Until then, we’ll keep the muzzle on and leash him up in the guest room. At least then we can all get some rest without worrying what he’ll do.”

The tension released from Hunk’s shoulders but he still looked uneasy as he helped Shiro heave the unconscious wolf up from the kitchen table.

“Do you think keeping him here is a good idea then?” Hunk huffed, arms flexing to adjust the weight.

And Shiro watched his feet, one step at a time, before he looked over his shoulder and flashed a helpless smile. “Honestly, no.”  
  
Sleep does not come easy to Shiro that night. Visions of a ruthless rogue tracking Lance’s scent down and ripping him to shreds plague him.

* * *

Keith opened his eyes fully expecting a surge of pain to hit him out of nowhere. His muscles locked instinctively, his jaw tensed in preparation, and he braced himself for the familiar waves of agony that would surely crash into him now that his body registered his consciousness. Now that he knew he wasn’t _dead_...

Any second now, Keith would succumb to the overwhelming spasms, thrash his anguish with piercing cries, and be forced to endure his final torturous moments in the safety and comfort of a warm bed. A warm bed that wasn’t his, in a room that wasn’t his.

Wait-

Keith took immediate stock of his body and tried to pinpoint what hurt the most and why. He was a little achy, as if he had just gotten over the worst of a fever, and his joints weren’t too happy about being moved from their stiff position. But besides that, Keith felt fine.

He felt good.

Which was swell and all, but it didn’t make up for the fact that he had no recollection of how he ended up here in the first place. Here, as in a bed. One that wasn’t _his._

Keith tried to move his head to better gauge his surroundings and whimpered with the stiff movement. Pain, raw and unaccounted for, shot hot along his neck and coaxed the next string of whines to pitch loud in the large bedroom.

Because _holy shit,_  that hurt. That was-- _o-ow._

Keith whimpered again and felt his throat clog with unwarranted emotion. Frustration, for one, because Keith wasn’t weak. He didn’t cry over a few bumps and bruises and readily give up when things got hard. He worked through it; learned from it.

But this was something not even Keith was sure he could grit and bare.

Waiting until the worst of the pain had passed was slow going, but canny. It was enough of a reprieve that tossing his head to the side and glaring at the far wall in confusion didn’t elicit a shock to his system that would undoubtedly knock him back to square one.

He takes it slow, using his peripheral to the best of his ability, and carefully discerns the dim room as quickly as he can.

The pale shades were drawn, subduing most of the harsh sunlight pouring in, and there was a decorative chair in the corner that looked ancient and unused. Beside it, a side table sat at an odd angle giving the illusion of staging, but was probably a misstep that caused the gray lamp to slide a few inches off center and ruin the illusion; little things he notices that make it homey and warm.

It’s a far cry from his too small apartment and closet of a bedroom.

It’s an eye opener.

The sound of creaking hardwood jarred Keith from his thoughts, had him whipping his head to the right, and left him groaning his regret as he was hit with another stab of pain. He grunted, wincing through the pangs, and shifted along the sheets despite his better judgement to get a look at his...

Stalker?

Savior?

Keith can’t tell from his vantage point, but he can see dark fingers curled tight around the edge of the doorframe and there was a peek of a socked foot just at the bottoms edge that shifted when he huffed.

 _Hey,_ Keith coughed.

The raspiness of his voice made his stalker jump, and though he worked hard to clear it, the sound came out scratchy again and seemed to scare his stalker more than it did encourage him to come closer.

At first.

Keith waited, trying to keep from straining his neck any further, and whined softly at the shiver of pain that triggered along his spine every now and then. It wasn’t unbearable, but the fact that he desperately wanted answers made it so he couldn’t help shifting with more effort to try and test his strength.

“Y-You shouldn’t move.”

_Ah-_

Keith froze, eyebrow cocked in surprise, and he hastily sought out the helpful advice with a uneasy twitch to his lips as he tried to put a face to the voice.

It was...a boy?

No, a man.

Definitely a man now that Keith could see clearly.

Because his stalker had peeked out just enough from behind the door frame that Keith was able to pick out brown hair, a gray t-shirt, and blue jeans. Unfamiliar attire, yes, but the presentation is non-threatening; soft.

His stalker shifted again, a shoulder visible now, and Keith took note of his generous height and the litheness of his frame as he leaned further out. He was lanky, all legs, really, and even though his expression was guarded, his blue eyes were open and filled with concern as they flickered along Keith’s body and slowly eased into fascination.

He falters, lips suddenly upturned into a small smile. Keith isn’t sure what causes the change in temperament, but he’s quickly hit with an overwhelming sense of calm and the subtle waft of jasmine that has him sinking into the sheets with a pressed sigh, the smell almost heady.

“I know this isn’t much,” his stalker called. “But I promised Hunk I wouldn’t come up here and moon knows what Shi-- _oh_. Shit.”

Keith watched the man jump like he’d been burned and dive back behind the safety of the door frame with a soft yelp.

 _Wait,_ Keith called, but his voice catches and his limbs refuse to do more than move a few inches under the weight of the comforter as his one beacon of hope disappeared with a resonating thud.

Another voice joins the fray soon after. “Do you _have_ a death wish, Lance? What the hell are you doing up here?”

Keith recognizes the next voice; _Lance_. It’s sheepish, but the tone is just as gentle as it had been when he’d been talking to Keith seconds prior.

There’s a huff. “I heard whimpering.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“He’s in _pain._ ”   

A sigh.  

Something rattles, metal against glass, and Keith hears the shifting of heavier footsteps against temperamental hardwood as the voices flow closer.

“Go downstairs and wait for me with an ice pack,” the voice orders. “I mean it, Lance. Stay. Down. Stairs. I already have one alpha to deal with, I don’t need another chewing me out for not keeping an eye on you.”

Keith heard a giddy intake of breath before socked feet went pounding down a lengthy set of stairs. Twenty steps in all. The floor creaks in three more places, and Keith feels his breathing pick up with the only presence of familiarity gone now.

Though he’s not entirely sure he should be worried.

Because his new visitor _knocks._

“I’m sorry,” the newcomer says when he jumps. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Keith shifted back against the pillows and eyed the hulking form making its way to him. A large hand grabs at the ancient chair, uncaring for the decorative pillows that topple in the venture, and pulls it right at the bedside so the man can pile into the seat with a soft grunt.

He smiles. “I know you’re probably nervous and I’m sure you’re confused. But I want you to know that we’re here to help you, alright? Nod if you understand me.”

Keith nodded.  

“Are you thirsty?”

Keith nodded again.

The man shook his head in return and said, “alright,” with another warm smile. “I’ll get you some water in a second. My name is Hunk. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Keith shook his head no, but flinched at the pain the movement brought. The man jumped at his discomfort, and his brown eyes softened in sympathy as he held out a hand.

“Careful,” he chided, “your scent glands are still pretty busted. We did what we could, but, it’s likely you’ll be looking at some permanent damage once they heal. But don’t worry about your memories. Pidge says it’s only a matter of time until they come back to you. Until then, though, know that you are safe with my pack.”

Pack?

While Keith doesn’t give anything away on the outside, inside his mind is racing. A pack? What the fuck did he mean by pack? And what the hell were scent glands?

Keith moved then, really _moved_ to sit up and immediately felt his world go off kilter as his brain tripped up and didn’t quite get his limbs to obey his prompted movement. His arms don’t respond right, he gets tangled up in the sheets, and he pitches to the side, knocking a bowl of water off the side table in the awkward process.

Water, blankets, and Keith go spilling off the mattress with a startled _yip._  

“Easy!” The man startled. He shot up out of the chair with his arms outstretched and Keith whined at the pain as he rolled over and tried to do what he wanted the first time around.

His legs wobble, his hands feel all sorts of awkward, and when he raised up on all fours, it comes a surprise when he can’t go any further than that.

Then realization hits.

Keith scrambled back with a horrified yelp that was far too deep and animalist to be his own voice. The rug skittered out from beneath his hands--no. _Paws_. He has fucking _paws_.

“Hey!”

Keith swung his head to the advancing body and felt his hackles rise in panic. He was being cornered. Cornered by a stranger who could even be the person that--that did _this_ to him. He had no idea where he was, no idea how he got here, and Keith had no fucking clue what had happened to his body.

He was a dog for christs sake!

“Not a dog,” the man says sheepishly. “You’re a wolf.”

_Like hell._

Keith lunged past the thick arms reaching for him and felt his hind legs trip up beneath him. His shoulder slammed into the door frame, sending a radiating reminder of pain pulsing up his spine as his throat protested each movement and fought against his burst of adrenaline.

His nails catch on carpet, slide on hardwood floors, and he all but tumbles down the staircase with horrid howls as his wounds pulled taut and ached their presence in every step he took.

Keith whipped his head back and forth to clear it and corrected his stance. He could see the beginnings of a kitchen to his right, a sliding glass door to what looked like the backyard, and all he had to do was jump the wrap around couch and get past the jut of the kitchen table.

Well, that’s all he would’ve have to do if not for the bodies blocking his way.

Keith stared at the figure standing a few feet in front of him and immediately recognized the long legs. The man, _Lance_ , was all wide eyes and hitched breath as he stood frozen against the arm of the couch and held a dark blue ice-pack close to his chest.

He took a nervous step back, froze when Keith tracked the movement, and let out a thin exhale as his throat worked.

_Where-_

Steps pounded down the stairs behind him; the large man hot in pursuit. And Keith, frantic now, turned into a hallway, making a mad dash for the far door. He isn’t sure what kind of joke they’re playing, but if he can get out of here he might be able to make sense of it all.

He needs to _go!_

The door stood open before him like a blessing, encouraging him to push harder, to run faster.

He sprints, ignoring the shouted, “Stop!” behind him that has his ears falling flat in detection and causes him to completely miss the small mass charging his direction.

It slams into him.

Keith goes flying into the wall, a line of pictures raining down on him from the impact, and before he can even think to stand, two small arms were wrapped tight around his middle and squeezing. He struggles, harsh yips of panic pitching high in his throat as a face nuzzled into his neck. The girl holding him down cries out.

“Please, please stop! You’re hurting yourself!”

Keith whined again, the adrenaline abruptly dissipating, leaving him exhausted. His limbs shake, and the big man stepped closer with an expression of helplessness and hesitant hands.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” he reassured gently. “I swear, we just want to help.”

Keith doesn’t fight it when he’s lifted up into supportive arms and carried back up the staircase that had ruined it for him. The small girl and the boy named Lance trail behind quietly, hands fiddling close to their chests as if worried he would spaz and harm the larger one.

But Keith is too tired to fight anymore, and he doesn’t even blink as he was returned to the bedroom and hushed softly.

Another blur steaks light in the corner of his eye and Keith quickly recognizes it as Lance. Lance, who shoots forward, grabbing sheets and comforters and arranging them into a giant circle on the floor as quickly as he can manage. He lines the awkward shape with pillows stashed in the closet and even goes as far as taking off his own jacket to layer it right in the center with a nervous pat. The larger one takes the cue as a go-head to lower Keith gently, giving the girl a look that has her going for a first aid kit nearby, and eases him so he’s lying flat along the sheets. Lance sits and snuggles close, petting gently behind Keith’s new fuzzy ears and perking up at the soft rumble of appreciation that unconsciously bubbles up in Keith’s chest.

“You’ll be okay,” Lance murmured. “You’re in good... _paws_.” He breathes the word like a dirty secret, a knowing grin playing at the corner of his lips, and Keith would feel inclined to laugh if he were capable.

 _That was awful_ , Keith thinks.

Lance just grins back at him.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you so much for all the wonderful, supportive comments. We really appreciate it! 
> 
> Give us a few weeks to finish the next chapter. Thanks again for reading! <333


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

When the Shiroganes arrived nearly 20 years ago, everyone kept their distance. The people of Ravenwood, while not unwelcoming, were wary. Japanese werewolves had long since dominated headlines as packs warred over the limited territory and lashed out at anyone who dared to intervene. Many packs were fleeing, trying to avoid getting caught up in the civil wars. But the disputes were taking innocent lives, and the government was in too much disarray to do anything about it.

So when word of a new Japanese pack in town spread, a number of townsfolk made it their duty to avoid conflict, and in turn, the new arrivals all together.

The first pack to warm up to them were their neighbors, a small family by the last name Holt who were far too kind despite the stipulations. Samuel was a little nervous at first, but once Colleen saw Akisame and his pregnant wife Tamaki, she had jumped at the opportunity to make a friend in the twin mother-to-be. Or, as well as a heavily pregnant wolf could.

It was well known that werewolf pregnancies were one of the most grueling gestation's around. Not only were they long and arduous, it was one of the few times the body forced it’s inner wolf into a dormant state. Full moons no longer triggered the change, but instead, had a more subtle effect on pregnant were’s in the elicit of only a mild heightening of the five senses.

And it was incredibly convenient, really.

Because even though remaining in wolf form during the length of a were’s pregnancy had offered some evolutionary advantage millenia ago, modern carries began experiencing the inconveniences and disadvantages it generated until eventually, evolution had to step in.

And not a second too late because as soon as the pregnant Colleen laid eyes on Tamaki, she recalled years later, it was like seeing something heaven-sent. The two ladies immediately hit it off, gushing about due-dates and the trials of each term.  

Akisame and Samuel had shaken hands with an air of cordialness, and promised for the sake of their wives that they would try and become close friends.

And so they did.

The Shiroganes and the Holts quickly became inseparable. Colleen helped Tamaki deliver their son, and Tamaki repaid Colleen two months later by helping her through her own pregnancy. Their sons Takashi and Matt grew up together, the two just as inseparable from the day they were born. They had all the same classes, interests; love for mischief. And they were even crushes for a while in high school, until Junior year, when Takashi presented as an Alpha at 17. They agreed to place the crush on hiatus, at least until Matt presented, but it would be another three years until that happened.

Being a late bloomer was a genetic glitch that ran far back in Matt’s ancestral history, and it proved to make things just as awkward for Matt as he feared. The biggest problem being that there were separate werewolf and human colleges. Those who had not presented were only allowed to enroll in human schools, as registration, coursework, and dormitories were sorted per one’s dynamic. Someone who presented mid-way through their college admission would be subject to different class requirements and cost both the student and the college time and resources.

So when Takashi, who was now fondly called Shiro, got accepted into the Werewolf University of Ravenwood on a full scholarship, Matt resigned himself to attending the human’s Ravenwood College, and the likelihood that he would no longer be seeing his friend. Even if Matt transferred into WUR after presenting, he would be at the expense of being placed behind his peers and possibly delayed in choosing his career track. Not that it would be the end of the world, but Matt was distraught. It subjected him to a future of setbacks and uncertainty.

But Shiro, who had made a name for himself at this point for excelling at both sports and academics, petitioned on behalf of his friend. Given that Matt’s mother had presented at 19, and his grandmother even later, Shiro asked if his friend could be given temporary admission to WUR, and given that his parents were beta and omega, he would choose one of those two tracks to follow. If Matt did not present within a year, he would withdraw his acceptance, and transfer to RC without harsh penalties.

Long story short, Matt presented as a beta halfway thought his freshman year, but had demonstrated himself to be so exceptional in the engineering major that the university granted him not only a full scholarship for the rest of his bachelor's degree, but a full Master’s ride as well. And after graduating with his BA, Shiro surprised him with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“I got it all worked out with the university, Matt. My uncle came with us as we fled Japan, and he settled in the city a few states over in hopes of finding a job and a mate. He’s now CEO of Shirogane Laboratories, a chemical engineering corporation. The school will let you “study abroad” for a year under his tutorship before you start graduate school.”

Needless to say, Matt was speechless, and had a fantastic year working with Shiro’s uncle. But it wasn’t until after the internship that everything went wrong.

Matt had made a last minute decision to extend his trip back home, choosing to sightsee for fun with a friend rather than take the quick flight home. Rolo was his apartment roommate at the time, and when Matt got ready to leave the city, Rolo wanted to follow. Shiro wasn’t thrilled about the setup, even moreso when he found out this Rolo character was included, but the good thing about him and Matt traveling together was that Matt wouldn’t be alone, and that meant they could take turns driving.

Safety always came first in Shiro’s eyes. And he made sure to check in with his best friend daily; relieved only by the regular emails and text updates. It wasn’t until they hit their home state did they stop, a radio silence that droned on for one day, then two, then three, until it was time they accept the worst case scenario and realize Matt wasn’t coming home.

It’s been nearly a year now.

Matt would have just turned 24. 

* * *

Shiro, while well-liked by many and well-loved by even more, only had two real friends growing up. The first was of course his neighbor, Matt Holt, and later his little sister Katie. But while he and Katie got along splendidly, she was not quite as close to him as Matt was. She was younger and she tended to have more in common with Matt and her father than she ever did with Shiro, but there was a respectful friendship to be had between the two of them. A cordialness.

And the only other person Shiro felt truly attached to besides Matt, was Keith.

Keith’s sob story wasn’t what initially attracted Shiro to him, but it definitely played a factor in Shiro’s desire to get close. Human, orphaned, and unhappy, Keith stood out like a sore thumb once he entered high school. He had come from out of state, young and unsure, and as soon as he was placed with his latest foster family, he was quickly enrolled in Ravenwood High.

With Keith’s mother and father both being human, it didn’t come as a surprise when the doctors confirmed he wasn’t a carrier for the secondary gene; an announcement that left the foster care up one five-year-old and settled the minds of unsure parents not wanting any future surprises.

But it was truly unfortunate when Keith tested negative for the wolf gene. Human children were that much harder to place into homes, and the newly accepting society had become enlightened with the idea of adopting were children when there were those to adopt. More often than not, though, orphaned werewolves were quickly taken in and acclimated to a new or neighboring pack to increase their chances of survival and help them adapt.

It was rare for such packs to waste their resources on human children.

Despite the hardships, Keith had started his freshman year when Shiro and Matt were sophomores. The shuffling of last names during schedule delegation had thrown the three in the same PE first period, and a welding class fourth, but other than that, it was like the two didn’t exist in Keith’s world, and vice versa.

So it wasn’t until their second semester did they really get to know one another, having once again been thrown together in the Survival Skills elective overflow. Keith’s reputation had preceded him, and not a single person dared to reach out and make an attempt at camaraderie.

At least, not until Matt and Shiro saw him without a partner and quickly adopted him into their group. All it took was a little team effort to corner the teen in the library and they quickly realized the tough guy act was exactly that. An _act._ An easy way to hide the fact that he was a scared and tortured, anxious mess underneath a persona that kept him somewhat safe from the harsh reality of his past.

There was no arguing then. Keith quickly and officially became their third member, and Matt and Shiro went out of their way to include him in anything and everything as they worked to make him feel safe during breaks and lunch.

He was the ultimate cliche. Keith wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone said he was and almost all of what had _been_ said was drastically off the mark. They were all rumours; born out of the desire to understand the mystery boy who came between one day and the next and offered no explanation as to why.

Keith wasn’t quiet because he was angry, he was quiet because he was observative. Solemn because he was thoughtful.

He was strong.

Keith joined the school’s hockey team sometime after arriving, not for any joy or passion in the sport, but because it was the first team tryouts offered at the beginning of the school year. It kept him busy, kept him out of the house longer than if he hunkered down in the library.

Looking back on it now, Shiro probably should’ve realized that there may have been unpleasant things happening in Keith’s house that highschool him just wasn’t aware of. To werewolves, abuse and neglect were nearly unheard of. It went against everything one’s inner wolf needed, and as a result, many werewolves overlooked those human issues and dismissed them, thinking that humans exaggerating. But the truth was, certain humans were crooked by nature, and those humans were easily drawn in by Keith’s blatant vulnerability.

After only a year of friendship, Keith got wrapped up in the wrong crowd. A group of fuck-face senior alphas trying to sway Keith to their side by playing on his insecurities and desire to fit in, to be _normal._ They dared him to play petty pranks and let them copy his work, to pick fights and act as their bodyguard when their mouths ran faster than their brains. Keith started skipping school, wracking up tardies, arguing with authority figures. He was turning into the Keith everyone had thought he would be; had _wanted_ him to be.

Which is why Shiro caught him by the shoulder one day and tried to figure out what they had done to his best friend. “What happened? Keith, this isn’t _you._ ”

“And how would you know?” Keith had spat. “Nothing _happened_ to me, Shiro. I’ve always been like this. If you were too blind to see it, then maybe we were never friends in the first place.”

At that, Keith avoided him and Matt for the rest of the year. He switched out of Survival Skills, was rarely seen on campus as it stood, and Shiro and Matt were beginning to wonder if it was worth clinging to the dying friendship.

But Keith showed up in the end, during the first week of summer, trembling under the cover of Matt’s porch with tears in his eyes and arms crossed around his middle like the idea of standing straight was something he couldn’t entirely face. He had been apologizing profusely long before Matt had even opened the door, saying something about them blackmailing him, how he had tried to run but he wasn’t fast enough.

They never get the full story.

But Keith is willing to offer them a promise in its place, a promise to be loyal to his friends. To listen when all they ever wanted to do was _protect_ him.

Shiro didn’t think he could feel a greater relief than when he did, in that moment.

Didn’t think he would ever feel a greater love for the boy than when he did, in that moment. So it’s a good thing, a _healthy_ thing, when Lance enters the picture the following autumn; all bright eyes and beaming smiles. He’s a distraction Shiro accepts greedily, a safety net of sorts that’s been sent to preserve the fragile state of his newly-fixed friendship with Keith. He indulges Lance for the remainder of his high school years, and uses his diploma as an excuse to leave the two and their attached emotions far, _far_ behind him.

Shiro was a coward then.

But now he had a pack.

Which is why there’s contemplation to be had in their current situation; grounds for a conversation that could most definitely go south if not worded properly. Shiro not only had an unfamiliar wolf in his pack, a wolf whose violent sire was still unaccounted for, but Matt was still out there. He was still _missing_.

Shiro isn’t sure why, but as he watched over the unconscious wolf, worn out by Lance’s earlier antics, his thoughts stray to the old friend of his.

Last he had heard, Keith was off studying wolf naturalism with a group of accompanied biologists. But that had to be, what? A year ago? Shiro feels a little guilty, then. He had been so caught up in Matt’s disappearance that he’d stopped checking in with the man. Where was he now? Had he found a place to settle down in? Was he eating properly?

Keith was never one to keep up on his health, always too busy to think about it.

But maybe he’d gotten himself a girlfriend in Shiro’s absence. One who took care of him and helped keep his routine in check.

Shiro chuckled to himself, _yeah, right,_ and made a mental note to drop by and see how Keith was faring. Maybe even offer to have him join his pack, if he hadn’t already settled down. It would be a bit unorthodox, what with a humans integrated in a wolf pack, but it wasn’t impossible. And knowing Keith, he’d be grateful for the inclusion. The offering of a family-like situation.

The wolf beneath his fingers grunted, mirroring Keith with their similar tenacity. Never giving up despite the odds stacked against them.

He’d give Keith a call soon. Just to check in. 

* * *

Three days have passed and their visitor is still a wolf.

Even cleaned up, no one is able to identify their new addition. They’ve done their best trying to explain the bits and pieces of what they’ve managed to scrounge up, but they can’t help him finish the puzzle of his turning without his side of the story.

Lance had felt validated in the way Red-

“Red?” Shiro questioned with a confused smile.

And Lance had waved a hand, “What? His fur is red,” before going on to explain why he had been correct in his earlier belief that Red was turned against his will. “He wouldn’t have panicked the way he did if he was aware of the coming change,” Lance said quietly. “Not to mention how he seems only marginally more familiar with the werewolf crap they tell humans in middle school.”

So it wasn’t unlikely to assume Red had spent at least some time among weres before. Especially considering how well he had taken the news once Hunk helped him settle down.

“He probably just never expected to become one himself,” Lance shrugged.

So Red becomes their very own personal enigma.

His inner wolf doesn’t respond to their calls, and he’s unable to form words of his own to send out to them. Another thing that’s odd about Red, and highly debilitating for their aid, is his fear of physical contact. Red did not like being touched. Like, at all. He would growl when they tried, and when Lance shifted and attempted to comfort him by scent marking him, Red flat out snapped at the poor omega before skittering under the kitchen table. It was clearly a defensive gesture, but Lance, who had never been rejected before, was hurt more than he let on, and Hunk tried his best to comfort him.

“Don’t beat yourself up, man. It’s obvious he’s going through a lot. I don’t think he understands the nuances of pack dynamics yest, so don’t take it personally.”

Easier said than done.

Lance moped around the house for _days_ after that, his feet dragging and shoulders hunched in scorned defeat. He ducked under all of Hunk’s advancing hugs and dodged Pidge’s call for assistance after he found out the first one was simply a ploy to get him around Red again.

He’d rather keep his distance if it meant not getting snapped at for the millionth time.

But by the following week, things go downhill, and they go downhill _fast._

Red has a infection. There, straight to the point. And despite everyone’s best efforts, his bond marks are gruesomely inflamed and they absolutely reek of sickness. So much so, that Hunk can smell it from the hallway.

Red’s agony and distress is palpable, and Lance has to work overtime to soothe everyone’s irritation as they tried to wrangle the wolf into something near consolable. Red’s already defensive attitude worsens, and he growls and snaps anytime someone so much as enters the room.

And by the time the next day rolls around, Pidge walks in with the first aid kit; the pack hot on her heels. Hunk and Lance hover near the door, eyes wary and scents cautious, and Pidge is the epitome of concentration as she snapped her gloves on and adjusted her glasses.

It’s an intervention.

Red immediately triggered, agitation rolling of him in waves as he whined and growled in equal measure. Shiro came to stand beside her, arms crossed, and put an edge to his pheromones to make a point; a simple warning.

“It’s time, Red. Pidge has been putting it off for the sake of your comfort, but we need to change your bandages. They’ve spoiled. Your body is going into septic shock faster than it can fight off the infection and pretty soon, you’ll be beyond saving. Do you understand me?”

Shiro hovered over the bed.

“If you do, then stop growling and just relax.”

* * *

The vibration of Keith’s defense cut off into a warning rumble, suddenly taken aback by the grey eyes that catch Keith’s attention. The words the alpha says lose meaning as he stares at the chiseled face, expression sympathetic but unrelenting. And he feels his brain do a hard restart as a line of memories flitted across his vision and poked through the fog of panic that had plagued his mind for days now.

_Crying on someone’s porch...long summer night...warm grey eyes...an embrace. He’d been forgiven...S-Shiro..._

The girl eased down on the edge of the bed and the weight throws him into a fit of panic. He growled at her in fear; choosing to yank himself from his inner confusion in favor of going on the defense. She’s going to hurt him. Only Shiro can help.

“Calm down,” Shiro growled at him in warning.

And Keith swung his head up to look at his old friend incredulously. _Shiro_ , he tries to bark. Because out of everyone, he _knows_ Shiro can help him. But Shiro isn’t doing anything.

And Keith just needs. This. Girl. To. Stay! Back!

She reaches for his neck, and in a blind panic, Keith launched himself at her, canines latching deep into her arm and drawing blood. Pidge screamed and jerked her shoulder to get away, eyes widening as the punctures lengthened in Keith’s refusal and caused more crimson rivets to spill across her skin. It had her pack at a momentary standstill; both shocked and helpless at the same time as time seemed to slow. Trickling about them like dripping syrup.

But then Shiro was there, and at the same time he wasn’t because in his place stood a hulking black wolf that charged him without hesitation, and hauled him up by the scruff of his neck. His teeth tear through, ripped away by the force, and he vaguely registers the girl being pulled out from under him before he was being hurled to the floor and pinned.

Shiro has him pinned, sharp fangs digging deep into his nape; growls nearly deafening.

Keith squirms, whimpering in pain and confusion because why was Shiro hurting him? What did Keith do to upset him? He promised he’d never turn on Shiro again so he refuses to fight as the noises raised in volume and his ears ached with it. Keith’s vision became blinding, his eyes burning. There was too much. It was too much!

_Shiro!_

Shiro!

**_“SHIRO!”_ **

The sounds and colors are disorienting and Keith isn’t entirely sure what is what until there are hands wiping tears from his face.

He’s dimly aware that he’s shuddering, Shiro’s name spilling from his lips among sobs, and someone is there to shush him, hands grabbing at his own and squeezing in an attempt to ground him. But his body is too big for his skin, and fire races down through his bones searing him from the inside out. His neck is white hot, burning brighter than the sun.

And Keith--And Keith--

Keith drowns in the pain.

* * *

Hunk is the one that jumps into action first.

“Lance, grab the med-kit!” He shouts, pulling Pidge out and away from Shiro and Red both as they went tumbling off the side of the bed. He snatches up the nearest thing, the bed sheets, and rips it into thin shreds as he heaved the girl up into his arms and hauled ass out of the room.

Shiro’s snarling and Red’s growls of confusions cut off somewhere around the tenth step, and Hunk doesn’t have the mind to worry about the distinct call of Shiro’s name as he deposited the teen down onto the couch and grabbed her arm hastily. He’s pressing down too hard, he knows, given Pidge’s sob as tears flow from her eyes, but he also knows he needs to stop the bleeding.

Lance came to a skidding halt on his knees, right beside Hunk, and opened the kit to immediately begin flushing the wounds with antiseptic, tight apologies spilling from quivering lips. Hunk doesn’t want to leave Lance on his own, but he takes the short reprieve to run back up the stairs, taking each step two at a time, and jerk to an unsteady halt in the guestroom doorway. Shiro was on the floor, frozen. Back in human form out of what was probably shock, and it’s a true testament to just how shaken is he. Shiro was the very model of control; of all of them, Shiro had the tightest lid on his wolf abilities. He had to. So to see him shaken, lost, staring down at the scrawny boy in his lap was upsetting. Hunk swallowed around the heaviness in his throat, feeling the radiating waves of Lance’s calm helping him in that task, as he took a cautious step forward and hesitated.

He hears Pidge whimper, “It hurts.”

And Lance doesn’t sound exactly stable as his words come out shaky and strained, “I know, Pidgeon. You’re doing great, though, see? It’s already starting to slow down.”

The next laugh is forced.

There’s a lapse of calm in Lance’s projection, a break of fear, and Hunk is torn between running back downstairs to take over for his friend, and making sure his alpha had everything under control.

And judging by the look on his face, it’s anything but under control.

Shiro’s expression screams shell-shocked. He’s absentmindedly petting the hair away from the boy’s forehead, studying every detail on his face as if he can’t believe what’s in front of him. And his hands make an aborted move to graze the torn bandages on the kid’s neck, before stopping and returning to his hair.

Hunk crouches down next to him, a respectable distance away.

“You know him,” Hunk whispers, and it’s not a question.

Shiro must know this too because he stills, then closes his eyes. “Keith,” is all he says. Then he leaned back and curled his hands into fists, clenching so hard his knuckles turned white.

Hunk risked putting his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, trying to offer some much needed support, and the gamble pays off when the tension drained from Shiro’s frame.

“Lance has Pidge. But we still need to tend to Red-- _er_ \-- I mean Keith. Help me?”

Shiro nods.

“Okay. I’m going to get another kit and check on the others while I’m at it. See if you can get him turned so his neck is easy to reach.”

And he leaves Shiro to it.

Pidge, not to anyone’s surprise, is in an all out uproar when Hunk finally finds the two again, both of them nestled on the edge of the living room couch.

She growls, “I can still do it, Lance! If I don’t, Shiro’s definitely going to apply the bandages incorrectly and then next thing we’ll know, the poor guy will be dead on the floor.”

“Pidge, you’re _hurt_.” Hunk jumped in, and the girl rounded on him.

“But I can still do my job, Hunk.”

“There’s no way Shiro’s going to let you back in there. Not after what just happened, Pidge. Not after he _attacked_ you!”

“He was panicking! I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Besides, he’s unconscious now. _And_ human.”

“Human bites are said to be the worse. All that mouth bacteria,” Lance chimed in suddenly.

Pidge shot him a glare that could kill, and Lance shrank into himself sheepishly as he pulled the gauze tight.

“Look, as much as I hate to say Pidge is right, she’s kinda right, man. _She’s_ the genius, remember? And if she says she can do it, then it’s our place to trust her on that.”

Hunk looks as though he wants to fight it, lips pressed tight and brows pinched, but his lungs press out a digressing sigh and he wilts. “Fine. But you listen to Shiro. He seems to know the kid and he’s pretty shaken up by the whole thing.”

Which gets him two surprised looks.

“Wait, really?”

“Who is he?”

Hunk shrugged, packing up the miscellaneous wet wipes and tweezers that had toppled in Lance’s haste and saying, “Shiro called him Keith,” nonchalantly.

Pidge’s eyes widen. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You said _Keith_? As in Keith Kogane the guy that Shiro was bestfriends with in high school? Holy shit, he hung out with Shiro and Matt _all the time_! He was like, a year behind them! Remember?”

Pidge directed a frazzled finger Lance’s way and watched as the omega’s eyes lit up in recognition.

Shiro had told them on more than one occasion some of the stories of his high school years, especially since Lance had been there for the better part of his crush on the alpha, and it had come as a nice surprise to find that he was connected to Pidge through his interactions with Shiro when he’d first come.

But apparently that included the brooding little shit he’d been going at it with for _years._

“That guy is my rival!” Lance blurted

And now it was Hunk’s turn to look at Pidge and Lance with an incredulous grimace.

“Your _what_?” Hunk asks.

Lance shot up off the couch and stalked towards the end of the coffee table tugging at his hair. “In high school!” He evaluated. “When I was crushing on Shiro. We never really got beyond that point because he was _always_ having to help Keith out with problems that always happened to arise when I was around!”

“Uh, Lance, I don’t think-”

“Which was _probably_ the exact reason Shiro didn’t want to court me in the first place! He had Keith stealing him away all this time!”

“Lance,” Pidge starts; trying and failing to coax the omega out of his fit. “I’m pretty sure-”

It wasn’t like that? Shiro and Keith were just friends? Was that why Keith has rejected his advances? Why he couldn’t secure a relationship with either of them? Were they seeing one another?

There are a lot of options Lance could choose from to appease his hurt ego, but he barrels past them all mentally, and physically barrels past his pack mates with a huff.

“Out of my way, guys. I need to get to the bottom of this!”

“Lance,” they both groan desperately.

Lance stormed out nonetheless, Pidge and Hunk close behind to try and talk him out of it, but the omega stays true to his resolve and doesn’t miss a beat as he swings the guest room door open and--

Stops.

Sees Shiro’s hands cupping gently at Keith’s cheeks as he pulls the smaller man in for a kiss filled with much more meaning than Lance could comprehend at the moment.

A whine is coaxed from the back of his throat and Shiro pulls away like he’s been burned, eyes wide. His lips part-- _his swollen lips part_ \--and even though Lance has confusion written all over his face, embedded in his _smell,_ Shiro doesn’t have the mind to pick up on it through the daze of his reconciliation.

Pidge pushed past a speechless Lance, and all impending awkwardness, with a weak smile.

“Welp,” she claps nervously. “Wanna try this again? It’s a good thing Red--uh... _Keith_ is human. Bandages stick so much better when we’re not working with fur,” Pidge tried for a laugh, killed it, and cleared her throat. “Shiro, would you do the honors and remove these old ones. He seriously reeks. So much that I don’t need to have a heightened sense of smell to know it’s not good.”

“But he’ll be okay, right?” Shiro looked at Pidge, grey eyes glassy, and Pidge tried her best to soften her expression as she sprayed the bandage down carefully.

“He’s gonna be fine,” she reassured.

Lance hovered over the three, quietly scenting the air so not to be obvious. And he picks up on Shiro’s relief, his blooming excitement. His alphas’s shoulders sag in relaxation as Pidge gently directed him about Keith’s injuries and slowly got the man back in working condition.

It’s a not so subtle punch to the gut, realizing all his worst nightmares were coming true, but Lance had a place in Shiro’s pack now. This wasn’t high school where Keith could just, come in and steal Shiro’s attention away. No. Lance was Shiro’s omega and that held a weight that his doubts couldn’t match.

“I don’t think I could lose him again,” Shiro whispered.

It takes a lot for Lance to step forward and ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

* * *

Keith doesn’t transform again. Lance isn’t sure if it’s because he can’t, won’t, or secretly has and refuses to tell them. He’s clearly fighting his inner wolf. Lance taps down his scoff. Being born a werewolf, he and his inner wolf are so in sync sometimes he can’t tell where he ends and the wolf begins. But he couldn’t imagine ever trying to fight his inner wolf. Resisting the call never works. They teach that back in preschool. Lance wants to grab Keith by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Just give in! Talk to your wolf! It will help you heal and you’ll feel a ton better for it!

But he doesn’t.

He heads to the lake to clear his head instead. And he may or may not be ensuring the others can’t smell his irritated scent.

Keith has shaken up the pack. Not only the dynamics and hierarchy, but he’s upset the peace they had. Their rules, routines. Keith gets to break it all. Lance both resents Keith, and pities him. He hates how close Keith and Shiro are. They have history. They have background. There are clearly feelings there, albeit unexpressed. Now he understands why Keith rejected his crush in high school after Shiro graduated. Lance always thought it was because Keith was a human and they didn’t feel emotions quite as strongly as werewolves, but he realizes now that Keith and Shiro were likely still seeing one another.

But now there’s the whole situation regarding Keith’s turning. The traumatic bonding, his memory loss, his injuries. Lance has no right to be negative. Anything that can help Keith overcome that horrible experience should be supported. If not for Keith’s health, then for Shiro’s. This whole week has seen Shiro beside himself with worry. Not only has his longtime friend turned up mauled, the one the thought was safe, but Matt is still missing, too.

So just because Lance feels a little bitter doesn’t mean he’s right to act upon it. Keith might not even remember Lance.

Shiro’s never quite been the same since the FLI called him in to help with the rogue Sendak. If it brings happiness to the both of them, then who is he to interfere? Lance ignores the whine of his inner wolf. Instead, he transforms and goes for a run, eager to distract himself from everything. The whole point of this venture out was to clear his head. What better way then with a good healthy run. Lance distracts himself with the sounds and smells of the forest. Today is a good day in among the trees, and he greets the birds and small creatures that pop out to greet him. One gorgeous bird, a sleek blue jay, calls to him, and he excitedly follows the trail. He dodges between trees and over shrubs. He leaps over rocks and crosses streams.

It leads him to a clearing, and he freezes. Negative energy hovers here like a cloud. It feels to be residual, but his hackles still raise. The air feels thick and Lance finds it a little hard to breathe. The ground is suspiciously rust-colored. He holds his breath. Courageously, the blue jay lands near a bush, seemingly unbothered by the foul odor of wrongdoing. It pecks at the bush, drawing Lance over. Slowly, Lance approaches, nervousness halting his steps. The bird darts within the bush, then kicks and pecks until it has something in its beak. It tries unsuccessful to remove the item from the bush, so Lance gently nudges it aside and goes to retrieve the object himself. He sticks his head in the bush.

It’s a knife. A sharp thing with purple and silver. And it’s covered in blood. Grimacing, Lance withdraws it from the bush, and drops it to study it better. He sniffs. There’s the evil scent wafting off it. It’s in the blood. Lance can’t quite match the smell, but whoever it was got quite a present from the sharp edge. He sniffs again at the handle, then his eyes widen. This knife belongs to Keith! That means whoever’s blood is on here is likely the one who attacked him.

That also means the aura of evil he’s feeling is Keith’s sire. Lance shudders, deciding quickly to leave immediately. He yips his thanks to his blue friend, carefully collects the knife in his mouth, and books it back to the pack house.

They finally have a clue!

* * *

Back at the house, Keith carefully makes his way downstairs. He’s sore and achy, and his neck pulses with pain, but he’s getting his strength back. Appealing aromas escape the kitchen, and the promise of food lures Keith down the stairs. Hunk jumps when he enters.

“Keith! I could have brought you something! Please don’t push yourself.”

Shrugging, Keith sits on the stool by the counter heavily.

“I’m fine. A few stairs won’t hurt me. Besides, I need the exercise.”

Hunk begrudgingly drops the argument and returns to his cooking.

“Just don’t let Pidge or Shiro see you. They’ve spent way too long trying to heal you up.”

Keith ignores the guilty feeling that pops up, and changes the subject.

“What’s on the menu? It smells amazing.” To emphasize, Keith takes a deep breath in, and exhales happily. Hunk smiles.

“Oh, you know. Just some rare steak I’m cooking up. Just because we can eat raw doesn’t mean it has to be without flavor. Raising it to rare lets the spices marinate. It’s a pack favorite!”

Keith blanches and Hunk laughs at the face he makes.

“Just try it, Keith. Your inner wolf led you down here. It knows what it wants.”

Keith still looks like he’s on the fence when Shiro returns home from work. The presence the others call his “inner wolf” barks excitedly at the alpha’s scent. Keith does have to admit, while he’s still resistant to his whole “werewolf” thing, the increased sensory perception is pretty nice. He can hear and smell even the littlest things, including the door opening from across the house.

Shiro enters the kitchen with a smile, already aware of Hunk and Keith. He wraps an arm around Hunk and gives him a nuzzle, then instinctively goes for Keith.

And stops when Keith flinches.

“Damn, I’m sorry, Keith. My wolf already sees you as pack and...sorry.”

Shiro sighs and heads to his room to change. Hunk gives Keith a thoughtful look, which Keith tries to avoid by looking at his hands.

“You know you can’t avoid this forever. You’re a werewolf in among weres. Sooner or later your inner wolf will need to feel that security of a pack. And honestly, you could do worse than Shiro. The sooner you bond with the pack the better.”

Keith doesn’t acknowledge him, and Hunk shrugs before turning to begin serving up dinner. Silently, Keith gets up and helps Hunk carry plates and utensils for the dining table. They work togetherly silently, efficiently setting the table. They’re just about finished when Keith stills, the last fork clenched in his hand.

“I just...I feel like I’m losing control. Like I don’t have say in my body anymore.” He puts the fork down and leans his hands on the table, staring at his reflection in a plate.

“I think I understand, Keith.” When Keith looks up Hunk gives him a fond smile. “But how about this? Let’s go at your pace. Shiro will understand. I’ll talk to him for you.”

Keith gives a big sigh of relief, and some of the tension seems to fall from his shoulders.

“That would be great, Hunk. I appreciate it. I’ll...I’ll try too. Now let’s serve dinner, I’m starving.

Hunk howls heartily in reply, and the pack comes running.

They shove and push one another, fighting over the seats closest to Shiro’s seat at the head of the table out of instinct, even though their alpha chooses to serve himself last. That’s when they notice the empty seat.

“Where’s Lance?” Shiro questions the table.

Everyone falls silent.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Nutella and I have been super excited to get chapter three out, it's been sitting in our doc for far too long. But it's here!  
> This chapter comes at'cha with a lot of history and background so we hope this is allowing for further insight into the coming development of Keith, Shiro's, and Lance's relationship in the past.  
> Thank you so much for the support and encouragement so far! This fic has been super fun to work on so far and we can't wait to dish out more chapters!


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

There’s no sugarcoating it anymore.

Shiro has gotten...sloppy.

And he’s well aware that it’s entirely his fault. Ever since Keith’s rescue, his pack had fallen into complete and utter disarray. They went to bed late, ate at irregular intervals, and coming home from their various workplaces only entailed the beginnings of _more_ work depending on Keith’s current state of mind and body. Pack outings had been practically nonexistent for well over a week now, and the lack of stress relief was quickly becoming apparent in all his members.

They were tense. Constantly on edge.

And if there were one thing Shiro could’ve done to make matters worse, he’d done it by completely neglecting their routine pack bonding.

Go figure.

Out of consideration for Keith, Shiro had put off their regular scent-marking sessions to alleviate any discomfort that the event could elicit given the man’s complicated past. Keith did not like to be touched, and Shiro was trying his best to respect that. But werewolf instinct dictated that whenever a new pack member joined, the hierarchy needed to be re-established and done so immediately to keep it stable.

Keith was an alpha, yes, but his secondary gender had no effect on his starting placement amongst their pack. His newbie status placed him right at the bottom of the totem, just below Pidge, where, with time, and only _if_ he decided to stay, Keith would be able earn his way up to his rightful place as second in charge. But that was going to be a long and painful process that would require a lot of conversations with his pack, and a lot of work to gain such respect.

Just as it should.

But that was a conversation to be had in the future.

What Shiro had failed to do, right now, in the present, was increase the scent-marking and pack nights to help everyone as a whole while they waited for Keith to mentally prepare himself for their coming ritual. As they waited for the freshly-turned were to get the feel of his new body.

But Shiro had been straight up avoiding that.

And it was only a matter of time before his negligence came back to bite him in the ass.

Just like it was doing now.

Shiro looked around their large round table and immediately noticed the empty seat sticking out like a sore thumb. A negative space that had dread and guilt sitting heavy in his stomach in equal measure.

“I’m sure he’s just out catching some fresh air,” Pidge said hopefully. But Shiro and Hunk gave one another a knowing look. If Lance were just getting some fresh air, they would’ve been able to smell him somewhere along the property, even from here.  

Shiro balled up his unused napkin and tossed it beside his plate as he stood. “I’m going to look for him. Feel free to start without me.” Even as he says it, Shiro knows it’s futile. His pack won’t eat without him; not when dinners were such an important part of pack socialization. They wouldn’t feel comfortable continuing when not one, but _two_ of their own were absent. Especially when that specific one was unusually unaccounted for.

Shiro gave Hunk a pat as he walked past, handing the torch off to the beta quietly, and Hunk nodded in silent reply, just like he always did, as he shot a glance Keith’s way.

A chair scrapped back in a quick drag, and when Shiro spared a look over his shoulder, Keith was there getting up to follow.

“I’ll come with,” he says. “Help watch your back.”

But Shiro doesn’t stop to talk to him. He continued putting on his jacket and headed towards the door without another look to spare.

“Don’t worry about it, Keith,” Shiro reassured. He opened the door, letting the wind carry it shut behind him, and called, “Just stay and eat, alright?” just as Keith darted between the closing wood and its frame with a short gasp.

“But I’m an alpha, aren’t I?” Keith jogged the question up to Shiro’s side and followed him with another. “Isn’t it my job to do this kinda stuff?”

Yes and no.

And _Moon_ there is so much Shiro wanted to say in reply to it all, but he needed to focus on finding Lance first. Besides, Keith was never one to be talked out of something. He was the type that learned lessons better first hand. This would be a good experience for him at the end of the day.

Lance, though...

Shiro tried to calm the panic before it got the best of him.

Because it wasn’t a matter of Lance not being smart enough or strong enough that had Shiro worried, anyone who’d spoken to the omega was intimidated by his intelligence and his unwillingness to back down. But it was the fact that Lance was out there, unprotected by his alpha’s scent, that had his stomach flipping with apprehension. Any number of things could befall the man if he wasn’t careful.

Which was why as soon as they found him, Shiro needed to have a serious heart-to-heart with himself so that he had a moment to reflect. He couldn’t keep letting his feelings for Keith undermine his responsibilities to his pack.

Not when his his family came first.

Shiro scented the air as they went, keeping a trained eye focused on the tree-line in the event Lance was lingering, and managed to catch a faint whiff of the omega close by the lake. He started to jog in the general direction, unwilling to transform and leave Keith completely defenseless at first, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Shiro snarled at himself inwardly for that way of thinking.

 _To hell with it!_ His wolf snarled. _Keith made his choice, already!_ _Where is your omega!_

With a growl of frustration, Shiro broke into a dead sprint, and not a second after did his wolf respond. His body tingled as if there were a thin valence layered all over his skin, and his hair bled pitch black and lengthened dramatically; raining down along his bulky frame until it was nothing but a coat of soft fur. His paws hit heavy against the ground and kicked up chunks of dirt and rock alike as he continued on in Lance’s direction. Behind him, Keith shouted in surprise and tried to run as fast as he could to catch up, but Shiro leaves him stumbling in the disturbed cloud of dust. He can’t let himself feel bad. Keith would learn these things in due time, but now was not it.

Just as Shiro resolves to apologize to Keith later after everyone is back home, the sound of trailing footsteps pound behind him; their stride gaining quickly. And he barely had time to whip his head back in shock before a red-furred wolf is at his shoulder; beautiful and powerful in it’s sprint. Keith closes the distance between them, smirking, and Shiro howls in reply as he pushes himself even harder and gains the few extra feet Keith can’t to take the lead.

The red wolf gave a garbled woof in reply, his ragged breathing blending into a feedback of adrenaline, and Shiro begins to wonders why he hadn’t taken Keith out sooner when the sound of the smaller were stops completely.

Well, not completely.

There’s a passing blur of what Shiro quickly makes out to be a silver wolf, and not even two seconds later there’s a very audible thud. The silver wolf hits Keith hard and the two fly apart, soaring through the air with twin yips of surprise. Leaves and dirt flew upwards in a scattered arch, and the wolves both went tumbling backwards in a slowing mess of kicking legs and tangled limbs as Shiro came to a skidding halt.

The silver one is the first to get up, its head shaking back and forth to clear it, and Shiro doesn’t have the time to huff in question when blue eyes widen under the dim moonlight and flash in recognition.

_Lance?_

_Shiro?!_

Lance’s tail wagged side to side in erratic excitement and he crouched low to the ground before springing up into a trotting circle.

 _Shiro!_ He squealed. _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro!_

Lance launched himself at his alpha, a grin visible even in this form, and Shiro couldn’t help himself as he let out a bark of matching excitement and met the smaller were halfway.

They crashed back, an awkward tangle of shifting limbs and inhuman laughter, until Lance was a giggling mess of human vibrating happily against Shiro’s broad chest.

“Lance,” Shiro huffed in relief.

The smaller man snickered in response, seemingly unaware of the worry he had caused, and pointed a manicured finger to Shiro’s nose. “I got _you_ ,” he pointed, then tossed a digit Keith’s way. “And I got _you_. You pups didn’t even see me coming.”

“Yeah, right.”

Shiro jolted at the voice, unaware and slightly surprised to find Keith pulling himself out of a crouched position so easily. And he watched as Keith brushed at his shoulders a bit, as if the action was completely natural, and felt a sense of pride knowing Keith was slowly finding himself. Slowly, but surely.

The smaller alpha put a hand on his aching neck absentmindedly and he gave Lance a rude once over as he rolled his ankle out to stretch the taut muscle. “You didn’t look like you saw us coming either,” Keith accused off-handedly.

Lance just scoffed in offense and used Shiro’s chest as leverage to push himself back on his haunches and pointanother finger. “I’ll have you know, _Red_ , that I’m an absolute pro when it comes to tracking my prey. Ask Shiro. As anyone. They all know I’m--”

“Bleeding.”

Lance froze, lips parted almost comically, and dropped his gaze down at the glistening line of crimson making a steady brush stroke down his elbow.

Would you look at that.

Shiro sat up immediately then, an arm snaking up and around Lance’s waist to support him as he situated the omega in his lap and pulled the bloody appendage his way for further inspection. He turned Lance’s arm over by the wrist, discovered the gash seated deep in his forearm, and heard the resonating hiss of Lance’s discomfort as the skin pulled tight and released another angry flow.

“How did--”

Lance’s sputter cut him off. The omega pulled his arm free, head angled somewhere Keith’s way as he yelped, “The knife!” and scrambled off of Shiro’s thighs into the underbrush. His hands worked fervently, fumbling along the forest floors through dirt and trampled pine as he grumbled a slew of curses beneath his breath. “ _Shit_ ,” he hissed. “Where in the hell did it...”

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro stressed. He struggled to his feet and wandered over to where Keith had taken to his own curious hovering before reaching out. “Lance, what in the world are you talking about? What _knife_?”

“Jesus, fuck!”

Keith slammed a hand into Shiro’s chest and pushed them both back a step, just barely missing the brandished knife Lance swung as he excitedly sprung up from his crouch. The omega held it up to the light, “This knife!” and dislodged the dirt and leaves covering him with a hasty brush to his knees.

“I found it while I was running,” Lance started, paused, then straightened up with a sheepish look. “Well, I had some help finding it, but,” he quickly pushed the blade out towards Keith with both hands and waited for the alpha to move forward before continuing. “I-I think it’s yours, Keith.”

At that, Keith took another bold step closer, his fingers curling around the hilt hesitantly. And his violet eyes were glistening pools beneath the moonlight as he looked to Shiro with a shaken frown and pulled the blade from Lance’s hands. He seemed offended by it’s weight, startled by the feel, and when he dragged it through the air in a cutting movement, he flinched away from it’s presence like it burned him.

“Where did you find this?” He asked quietly. And when Lance didn’t answer, he turned on the omega, frantic now. “Where did you find this?” Keith shook.

Lance’s eyes widened in turn as he stuttered, “I-I don’t-” and took a careful step back that had Keith moving effortlessly forward with the retreat. He gestured desperately with his blade. Close enough again that Lance takes another step back, hands up in surrender, and flinches when Keith moves forward again; this time more aggressive.

“I killed it. I killed _him_ with this! After he bit me. He fell over. I stabbed him right in the chest, I’m sure of it. There should’ve been a body, there should’ve--and yet you--”

“ **Keith**.”

Shiro watched Keith’s spine straighten at the address, his eyes clearing, and he looked a blend of confused and guilty as he glanced down at where he’d grabbed Lance in his recollection and noted the man’s lips pinched into a pained smile.

Keith unhooked his fingers from Lance’s arms, his fingers slick with warm blood, and felt himself flush. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t--I didn’t mean to--”

“You didn’t.”

Lance reads well between the lines and hurries to cut into the remorse before it can raise itself into something ugly and untamed. He smiles, says, “You didn’t,” again, and tries to project it into his scent as best he can. “I’m fine.”

But was he?

Shiro picked up on the hint of unease layered deep beneath the dull note of jasmine Lance would seep when he didn’t want anything else to be exploited. It’s a monotone coverup. One Shiro hated smelling almost more than the detectable waft of blood.

And he would say something, but Keith was already glancing around himself, looking something terribly lost, and Shiro had to take it upon himself to step in with a sound of reassurance. He hoped it helped Lance as well, but the omega simply stepped away and cradled his arm close with his own flow of gentle encouragement that Keith and Shiro both accepted greedily.

“What else do you remember?” Shiro prodded carefully.

Keith eyed the blade in his hand as if it would give him answers, and glanced up at Shiro with a broken look when it so blatantly didn’t. “Snippets. Nothing _nearly_ helpful,” he spat, but his eyes are apologetic. “I’m sorry, I wish I could.”

“But you can’t, and there’s nothing wrong with that, alright?” Shiro reached for Keith and pulled him in with a sincerity lit deep within his gaze. “You’re making incredible progress after everything you’ve been through. Don’t ever discredit that.”

A distinct airiness purges through Keith’s earlier distress like a towel cleaning up a water spill. And even though it cleanses, it’s quickly followed by a lagging hint of bitterness that makes itself audible with a paired _snap_ of a broken twig.

Two sets of eyes flicker up, the crack of sound like a gun fired at close range, and Shiro felt himself gape as he registered the sudden distance placed between himself and Lance. _Lance_ , who looked progressively flustered, and took another step back with a thumb jammed in the direction they’d just come.

“H-Hunk’s feeling pretty worried now, guys. I think it’d be best if I head back first. Let you two talk.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Keith commented, just as flustered.

And Shiro was there to break the streak with a hasty agreement and worrisome frown. “Lance, your arm-”

“Is fine,” Lance interjected. “Almost healed now, see?” He raised a hand to wiggle his fingers, trying to make a point, and took another step back that Shiro tracked with his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, alright? You guys have bigger things to worry about.”

_Things to resolve._

Which is why Lance doesn’t wait for a response nor does Shiro think he would care to hear one before he was shivering back into his sleek form and disappearing into the thinning woods.

The trail he creates is riddled with a certain resignation, a solid hint of defeat, and though Shiro knew full well that he could’ve made the omega stay if he wanted, he realizes it would be best to get the man alone. It’s just unfortunate that Keith needed just as much attention as Lance did at the moment.

Funny how that seemed to be the case a lot lately. Hunk and Pidge included.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Shiro crossed his arms and looked off at where Lance had disappeared with his lower lip at the mercy of his worry. Lance would be okay. “Lance is _always_ okay,” Shiro muttered. “Even when he isn’t.”

Which is why Shiro needed to talk to him. To explain himself and his actions so that he could reassure the omega of the coming months. Things were changing. For the better? Shiro wasn’t sure. But he needed to be there for his pack no matter what.

“I need to go back,” Keith whispered. Shiro looked to where he was admiring his blade, face stricken, and his eyes are haunted when he turns. “I need to go back to where I was turned,” Keith continued. “I have to be sure, Shiro.”

“Lance said he didn’t see a body, Keith,” he tried, but the smaller man just shook his head.

“I _have_ to make sure, Shiro. He could still be out there.”

Which wouldn’t be likely. Not for long, at least. If Keith had inflicted such a chest wound like he said he did, then it wouldn’t be long before the FLI caught up with the rogue and euthanized him. It was only a matter of waiting.

But if it meant giving Keith peace of mind,

“Then we can ask Lance to take us in the morning.” Shiro held out a hand and gestured towards the dark blade patiently. “Here,” he murmured. “If I can pick up the scent, then we’ll track it first thing tomorrow. Okay?”

Keith handed the weapon over and nodded, content with the agreement, as Shiro sniffed at the hilt. He hoped to catch a whiff of what was probably a dead scent by now, the blood aged by time and muffled by the smell of forest and something distinctly Keith. He catches the linger of Lance’s scent, the smell of what was possibly a bird, and...

Felt his own run cold.

A growl erupted low in his chest, triggered immediately by the recognition, and he gripped tight at the offending metal.

“Shiro?” Keith cautioned.

His inner wolf snarled. **“Home.** **_Now_ ** **.”**

* * *

Lance trudged down the stairs, his usual gait thrown by an unusual heaviness as he finished wrapping his hair up in a towel and winced at the tugging sting of the scabbing wound. The shower was totally not just a sorry excuse for a few minutes of peace. He had returned bloody and filthy. But today he found little joy in his usual washing routine. Now it just felt like a obligation. One that seemed to be happening more and more with things he used to find pleasure in.

“Hunk, we’re almost out of toothpaste and Pidge isn’t sharing hers. Wanna make a list so I can run into...town...tomorrow?” Lance dropped his arms to his sides and raised a brow. “What’s happening?”

Hunk visibly perked at the arrival of his best friend and leaned back into the kitchen, relief visible in his stance, as he waved a hand, _this way_ , and called, “He’s over here, Shiro.”

Shiro?

 _Shit_ , Shiro!

The alpha rounded the corner, Keith hot on his heels, with a look of raw panic and a sharp smell to match. He makes a beeline for the omega who holds his hands out in defense, a babbled, “No, no, no, Shir-- _ooph,_ ” falling on deaf ears as he felt the larger man’s shoulder dig hard into his belly.

“Hup!” The alpha heaved, hauling Lance over his shoulder and ignoring the following spill of the damp towel as Lance came face to face with the alpha’s ass.

“Shiro!” He screeched, added, “Pidge!” when the girl merely waved him goodbye and flashed a smug smirk that Keith couldn’t match in his trailing confusion. Lance is stuck flailing between trying to cover himself and tapping on Shiro to let him down.

His pack is full of bullies and traitors, and he’s sure to make this known as Shiro nudged open their pack room and called for Keith to shut the door behind them before tossing Lance into the center of his nest.

He bounced once, twice, and hastily brushed the hair from his gaze as he tried to catch a second wind.

“Is this your way of seducing me? Because if it is,” Lance’s smirk wanes at the corners when he realized Keith hadn’t been left on the other side of the door. “It’s not working,” he finished lamely.

Lance struggled up onto his elbows with only a grimace to show for it and scrambled to his knees when Shiro turned from where he’d crouched at an outlet and stalked back towards him.

The small lights lining the entirety of his shared nest were bright enough to outline the hovering form of Keith’s body from where he stood nearby, looking entirely uncomfortable. He might even be a bit put out, his eyes taking in all the objects and their arrangements with something akin to unease. And Lance is just about to say something when Shiro dropped down in front of him and took his hands gently into his own.

“Lance,” Shiro breathed carefully. “Where did you find this blade?”

Keith took a hesitant step forward, the knife showcased in the his hands, and Lance looked at Shiro with a nervous smile in return.

“I-I’m not really...sure,” he admitted.

And Keith huffed, “You don’t remember?”

Lance looked away from Shiro and let a curtain of ridicule blaze bright in his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly keeping to a trail, _Red_ , so if you’d-”

“Think?” Shiro’s voice cut in with a desperation that had all further argument dissipating on Lance’s tongue. “Estimate if you have to,” he insisted. “I know you know our territory like the back of your hand, Lance.”

Which...was exactly why Lance didn’t know.

“I wasn’t...”

Shiro bit his lip, “Hm?”

And Lance worried his own as he shifted in discomfort and squeezed Shiro’s hands a bit. “I wasn’t in our territory,” he said quietly. “Forty miles East at best, Shiro, but I didn’t--”

“What?” Shiro rose to his feet steadily and Lance instantly felt ten times smaller. He curled his neglected hands into his lap and bowed his head submissively as Shiro’s usual pine took on the harsh burning edge of anger. “Lance, you know the rules. We stay--”

“Within territorial boundaries. I know, Shiro.”

“Obviously you don’t,” he snapped; voice shaking. And Lance flinched, really _flinched_ , at the dangerous tremble in the tone. “What the hell were you thinking?” He growled.

Lance pierced his lower lip in an attempt to keep his voice even though it came out fragile and airy. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking,” Shiro parroted. His words grew sharp and the oppressive weight of his scent was making Lance shake unconsciously now. “Of all the reasons you’d disobey me. You just didn’t think.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Lance!”

Shame creeped it’s color warm along his cheeks and he hated it more that Keith was there to witness it. _This_. The man was invading his nest, _his_ nest, and watching on as his alpha disciplined him in a way that was usually meant to be private. Shiro was never one to humiliate, yet here he was.

It’s truly impressive that Lance made it this far without crying.

Violet eyes stay locked on the interaction, alpha versus omega, despite the radiation of hate that flows heavy in Lance’s gaze. Keith won’t take the hint, so he bares his neck for both men to see to try and convey his apology in ways he couldn’t with words; did his best to blink the embarrassment making his eyes glassy.

“I’m sorry, alpha,” he wobbled out again. Only this time, his voice cracks.

And this....

This wasn’t what Shiro came to do. He was trying to fix what his neglect had damaged, not make it worse. But from the looks of it, he already had.

Shiro unclenched his fists with a level exhale and sank to his knees with a look Keith’s way.

“Can we have a moment?”  

He shouldn’t have to ask. Not when Shiro should’ve never brought Keith here to begin with. This was supposed to be a safe space, especially for Lance.

But Shiro had tainted that too, now.

Keith left with a subtle nod of his head and shut the door as quietly as he could manage as Lance hastily wiped at his nose and eyes. He kept his eyes closed and throat bared for good measure, and jumped a bit when Shiro leaned close.

“I’m sorry,” the alpha murmured. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just...I worry about you, I’ve _been_ worried about you.” Shiro took Lance’s hands gently when he refused to say anything. “Can you come here, please? You don’t have to do that anymore. Not with me, Lance.”

Lance glared down at the sheets and cushions below him, forcing Shiro to live through his snub just a little longer, before he nodded sullenly and shuffled close. Close enough for Shiro to make room in his lap and settle Lance so his long legs were stretched out on either side of his waist.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked quietly.

Lance sniffled weakly, but he didn’t look up. “I’m fine,” he muttered, but Shiro can hear the lingering resentment. “I knew I should’ve been more careful, Shiro. I’m not a pup, I just--”

“Needed time alone?”

Lance’s lips curled into an unsatisfied pout as Shiro let out a rumble of a laugh and rubbed a soothing palm up the curvature of his spine.

“It’s okay,” Shiro hummed. “I know you need your space.”

And Lance laughed bitterly, spitting, “Like that isn’t all I’ve had for the past few weeks,” with much more aggression than he indents for, so he’s really only to blame for the resulting wash of guilt that flowed soon after once he saw the stricken look on Shiro’s face. He backtracked, “I didn’t-”

But Shiro just waved a hand. “No, you’re right,” he groaned. “I deserved that much and more, really. It’s actually why I wanted to talk to you in the first place.”

Lance raised a brow. “About what? About giving me space?”

“About giving you too much,” Shiro clarified. His fingers laced loosely at the low of Lance’s back and stabilized the omega so he wouldn’t run. “I’ve been...unfair to you. To everyone. I’ve failed as an alpha these past few weeks and it’s taken a toll on all of you.” Lance popped his lips open to object but Shiro pushed on. “I can see it, Lance. I can smell it on you. You’re unhappy.”

“I’m not,” Lance protested.

Shiro tried again, “You’re unsatisfied,” and that gets Lance to quiet. “You’re hurting. I’ve pushed you all away worrying about Keith and it’s not...right for me to scold you when I haven't been there to meet your needs. You don’t deserve it.” Shiro cocked his head to the side then, and bared his scent gland with a bob of his adam’s apple. “I’m sorry, omega,” he said softly; _sincerely_.

And Lance felt his cheeks heat in surprise as he gaped down at the rare exposure. His heart clenched a bit, and his eyes burned a little as he inched closer and hesitated at the nearness. “Keith-”

“Isn’t my omega.”

And even though that doesn’t make everything okay, Lance couldn’t deny the way it made him warm as he snaked his arms up around his alpha’s neck carefully. Shiro made a rumble of soft encouragement that had Lance nosing at the exposed gland and running his wrists down every inch of exposed skin he could get his scent on. He purred quietly, his inner wolf preening under the attention after so long as Shiro took his time returning the favor, scenting him just like he always did.

Maybe that’s why his next admission comes easy.

“Forty-two miles.”

Shiro peeled back, eyes a little dazed but slowly focusing as Lance held steady at his shoulders and rubbed his thumbs anxiously.

“I had to be at least forty-two miles out, now that I think about it. I crossed a creek that ran along a hiking trail about an hour and a half out.”

“ _Only_ an hour and a half?” Shiro pitched.

Lance just nudged at his shoulder and tried to find something interesting to look at. “I got some help intercepting the scent trail since it wasn’t exactly fresh. But it was just outside of a clearing. There was still a lot of, um. Blood.”

Shiro rubbed a circle into Lance’s hip and looked up at him hopefully. “You think you can take us there?” He asked.

Lance’s eyes flared bright with eagerness as he practically vibrated in Shiro’s lap. He snickered, “Only if you think you can keep up, old man,” and felt all of his cockiness dissolve into a bubble of panic as Shiro flipped him on his back and nipped close at his throat.

“Looks like this old man can still take you, pup,” Shiro teased back.

And Lance tilted his head back and sighed.

Wouldn’t that be a dream come true.

* * *

Hunk yawns as he finishes cleaning up the kitchen. It was late, another day blurring into the next as the house finally settled into reasonable normalcy. No one had dared to mention such a prominent issue to Shiro out of fear their alpha would hit a breaking point, but they were getting horribly off schedule. As a pack, and as individuals.

Soon, it was going to start affecting their work. And once work was affected, they would start bringing their issues home, which just so happened to be in a chaotic mess as it stood. And Hunk knows what Shiro is going through, he does. Everything with Keith, the stress of the unknown sire, Shiro was under a _lot_ of pressure that he’s never been faced with since creating his pack. But even so, there was no viable excuse Shiro could give that would make his neglect of their unity as a pack acceptable, there just wasn’t.

So as much as Hunk hates to admit it, there’s no ignoring the need to start taking his pack’s health into critical account. He was the packs beta, and he was supposed to step in when Shiro couldn’t or no longer showed that he was capable of fulfilling his duties.

It was now Hunk’s job to make the call.

Shiro was still a good alpha, but was he now compromised? Was he incapable of performing his duties and ensuring the packs safety? Because if he was, Hunk was obligated to report him to the FLI for further investigation; _professional_ investigation. The thought sits bitter at the back of his throat, but given his tough position, it was up to Hunk to make the hard decisions. Hunk would have the calm, rational mind that would let him stay neutral, no matter how attached he was to the offending party. And though his respect and love for Shiro went deep, he would never sacrifice that stability of Lance and Pidge’s mentality all because he had a soft spot for the man.

Dishwasher full and sink empty, Hunk dries his hands with a spare dish-towel and leans heavily against the counter, head cradled in his hands. Because Hunk _had_ a soft spot. He was very, very fond of this pack. Shiro had previously shown nothing but excellent leadership, Lance had proven himself an incredible best-friend, and Pidge was absolutely flourishing under their loving care. And Hunk? Well, Hunk had a wonderful, healthy, happy pack to help look after. It was truly everything his heart and his wolf desired.

But now Hunk’s wolf whined with concern.

Out of all them, Pidge had been the least affected by Keith’s arrival; the worst she had had to deal with up to this point being the seemingly endless bout of late bedtimes. Because the rest of the pack had agreed long ago that the young were’s needs were the most important out of all of them given the awful situation with her missing brother. So they had worked hard to shield her from the worst of their emotions, Lance working double time to keep the air light of their constant fatigue and wariness.

As for Hunk himself, he was only unhappy when the pack was unhappy, and he had worked tirelessly for a solution to their problems. He would talk to whoever needed the extra support or a reprimand, and prided himself in maintaining stability where Shiro was so badly lacking. But the dysregulation was irritating as it was out of his hands, and Hunk was desperately trying to see the issues through to the best of his abilities.

He just couldn’t do it alone. Not when Shiro had practically checked out in his frenzy to attend to Keith. And it wouldn’t be a problem if Hunk were the only one dealing with the ricochet, but he wasn’t.

Lance was.

The omega had clearly taken hit after hit ever since Shiro had brought Keith to them. While he was the heart of their pack, selfless and giving and always making sure everyone else was comfortable before letting himself rest, he was also the most vulnerable. The most self-sacrificing. Tensions were high and the only reason people weren’t snapping at one another crankily was because Lance was constantly pumping out calming energy. He was single handedly keeping the pack agreeable where they would have likely broken apart after Keith’s first turning, which was why he was the one Hunk was most concerned about. Hunk never thought he would see a challenge that Lance couldn’t overcome, but right now that trial was Shiro-shaped and growing.

Speaking of which, Hunk had realized a little too late that their alpha didn’t even seem to be aware of his part in all of this. Not because Shiro was _letting_ their schedule fall apart, or because there was a new pack addition who didn’t know his place yet. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that their pack territory was no long secure.

Those could all be fixed relatively quickly.

The problem was that Shiro’s intentions were unclear. He seemed to have feelings for both Lance _and_ Keith, and was unknowingly leading both of them on in his obliviousness.

From day one, everyone had known Lance had had a thing for Shiro and vice versa. It seemed like a done deal. But Keith’s discovery and return seemed to have unleashed repressed feelings. Emotions that Shiro had likely planned to bury deep and hide away forever had broken free. And now Shiro didn’t know what to do about it. Probably didn’t even know he was leaking his affections all over the place. And Keith, the new baby wolf that he was, was preening under Shiro’s care and receptive of his intentions. Hunk has a suspicion that were Shiro to commit to one, the other would lick their wounds and be supportive to the match. Wolves liked direct and clear intentions. But right now Shiro was unconsciously stringing them both along, while denying previous attachments at the same time. This new dilemma meant the world Lance had previously felt solid under his feet was crumbling beneath him. It was only a matter of time until either Keith’s inner wolf would start a confrontation and force the delicate issue, or Lance would snap, no longer able to keep a lid on his resentment. Then Lance and Keith would be at each other’s throats, vying for Shiro’s attention soon enough.

Hunk knew exactly who would win that fight, too. And unfortunately, sometimes it really was all a matter of biology. Lance wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against Keith’s alpha voice, and not against his strength. But Lance, being the undeterred little omega he was, would literally fight tooth and nail. Even if it killed him.

And it would.

Just the thought was enough to have Hunk whining aloud. It was time to make a decision and act. He can not allow the pack to continue along its current path. He either had to report Shiro, or see that he could do to knock some sense into him.

Hunk steels himself, leaves a pot he’s too lazy to clean right now to soak, and flicked the lights off.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow the two of them would have a talk.

* * *

Three hours past their usual bedtime and Shiro is herding everyone into the pack room. The mood is somber, everyone trying to be polite and civil as to not upset their alpha, whose guilt wafts off of him in rivets. He sees to make sure that all of them are tucked into the nest, minus Keith, who takes the bed without a single word. Shiro promises tomorrow they’ll do pack bonding and hopes that this will be enough to tide them over before then. It’s half-assed, he knows. Horrible on his part, but Shiro can’t think of any better given his time constraints as he Shiro closes the door behind him and lets his head fall back on the wood with a soft thud.

 _Damn_.

Feeding his pack late, putting them to bed late. Everyone was going to be a strung out mess tomorrow. Shiro was desperately trying to get his pack back on track before he damaged their foundation completely, but he was failing at that too. His work with Lance was more like a bandaid slapped on a gushing wound; too little too late in it’s delivery. And he couldn’t even remember the last time him and Pidge had talked about anything _besides_ Keith’s health. She had probably hoped Shiro would get back to helping her search for Matt, but _moon_ that had been weeks ago.

Shiro needed to take charge, he just had too. He couldn’t let this go on any longer, his pack members doubting their place amongst his circle. At the first sign of availability, Shiro would round everyone up and conduct an overhaul pack bond whether Keith was ready or not. It would likely be the afternoon, when Pidge was done with school and after Hunk finished teaching his engineering elective. Which meant Shiro would need to wrap up his unfinished business with Lance and Keith first thing in the morning.

No more excuses.

The awkward tilt of Shiro’s world is a bitter taste of nostalgia; an unwelcome feeling of being off-centered and displaced that Shiro hasn’t felt since his temporary discharge from the FLI. The parallel would make sense, really. Sendak had tormented him long before then, and Shiro should’ve guessed he would be tormenting him now, just like he always did.

Though Shiro could be grateful for the lessons he learnt the day. Being involved in the accident with Sendak had proved to be a much needed, and very painful, lesson in the dangers of being overconfident. It was his own fault for being young and dumb.

The _Filii Lunam Imperium_ , or fondly called the “flea” for short, was essentially a werewolf branch of government that extended worldwide in ways that had never been done before. It acted just like any human government, keeping its people under wraps, but it was drastically more dignified and tolerant. The FLI had headquarters in a variety of regions, handling the documentation of werewolves and designating property, registration of bonds and pack members, pack housing, and the intervention and rehabilitation of rogue werewolves.

Shiro, like all pack werewolves, had a part-time job that induced a healthy amount of stimuli in the outside world away from their pack. But because werewolves, especially those in packs, needed to spend a majority of their time tending to the needs of one another and themselves, the FLI only cleared them for part-time work to reduce the chances of neglect and rogue-risk.  

Shiro’s stellar record in the community and intensive work with Pidge had put him in the FLI’s radar not long after they moved out of the city. He was a prime candidate for their rehabilitation programme that was reinstated in the nearby headquarters after a spike of rogue activity lit up the map. Young, healthy, and a strong alpha to boot, they had only needed to glance at the man before pulling him in for an interview.

Two months later and Shiro was wracking up an impressive record of successful cases. He specialized in aiding abused and neglected wolves, preventing them from going rogue, and helping those previously thought incapable of coming down from the edge, find their sanity once again. It was fulfilling work. It gave Shiro purpose.

But it also blinded him to the harsh realities as his ego was repeatedly fed.

Sendak was eventually the one to break his streak of luck. A lone wolf, a stray from the Galra pack. He was feral and uncivilized, roaming through the mountains and hurting anything that crossed his path be it human or animal.

“He’s a lost cause, Shiro,” was a statement Shiro heard often.

“It would be safer to euthanize than to engage,” they said.

“We can’t help him anymore,” they all thought.

Shiro had taken the case despite the warnings and low predicted success rate for rehabilitation, and it was absolute _hell._ Sendak was barely coherent, driven by sound and scent alone as he left a bloodbath of savagery in his wake. They would have to address it later, but Shiro refused to be swayed. He spent ten long and tiring nights tracking Sendak, crossing his path and desperately trying to pull him out. To reach his inner human.

And it wasn’t until the twelfth night did Shiro finally succeed in doing so. He’d broken through Sendak’s feral side. Shiro successfully rehabilitated Sendak, and was the one to personally sign off on the paperwork recommending he be given his own pack. The alpha had shown vast improvement. His thinking was that an omega would hopefully settle him. That a pack would ease his mind.

It was a mistake that would cost Shiro his arm, his sterling reputation, and the lives of those he had recruited to become apart of the alpha’s new pack.

Sendak was confirmed to be one of Zarkon’s cherished alphas sent to find a strong pack of his own that would conform to his every will. And when they didn’t Sendak slaughtered them. The FLI had no way of knowing, given the lack of documentation, but the slip up was still the start of the largest system turnover that rocked through every headquarters from North America to Australia. They had lost the lies of five young werewolves, served to Sendak's on their own silver platter, and FLI wanted to make sure such an event would never happen again.

Sendak came for Shiro not long after. Shiro was the only one Sendak saw as worthy. The rogue tried in vain to convince the alpha that his leadership would be worshiped. His presence; respected. Shiro had tried to reason with the man that there was no way Shiro could let him leave after the things he’d done, but Sendak went berserk.

The two fought brutally, ripping into one another until Shiro’s arm was nothing but a limp shred of flesh at his side and Sendak’s face was painted bloody where Shiro had clawed out his right eye. They were fatigued, on the brink of unconsciousness. And when Sendak lunged for an opening, Shiro had burned that last bit of adrenaline needed for him to catch the alpha under the throat, and shake him as violently as he could. Until his teeth hit bone and something snapped between the crushing bite of his jaw.

“Temporarily paralyzed, but not dead,” the doctors said when Shiro woke with a start. “We have him in the ICU under strict orders that he is not to leave until we can take him to trial. You got him, Mr. Shirogane.”

Only, he didn’t.

Sendak was reported euthanized and cremated only a week later after the FLI found him guilty on five pages worth of charges. He was said to have been thrown away in the dumpster behind the station with a mutter of, “Good riddance,” on the janitors part, but apparently, that was no longer the case.

If Keith’s story were to be believed, and Shiro’s nose trusted, this recent incident would be the second time Sendak had alluded death. Shiro would make sure there wouldn’t be a third.

In the end, Shiro was awarded regular compensation checks by the FLI which went to the purchase and maintenance of Shiro’s prosthetic, a guaranteed position at the local FLI branch, and a lifetime of nightmares; PTSD included.

And while his pack knew he had lost his arm to a rogue situation gone wrong, no one knew the whole situation regarding Sendak besides the little things he had alluded to to Lance those few times. Because Shiro had hoped he would never be in a situation where he was forced to bring it up. Not when the pain behind those memories was dead.

Well, was. Just not anymore.

Things were hitting too fucking close to home, and sooner or later, Shiro would have to tell his pack the whole truth before it threatened the integrity of their safety.

Sendak was no doubt looking for him.

And to be honest, he probably never stopped.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The long-awaited chapter!  
> We really appreciate your patience. Both of us had vacations with NO SERVICE so we were a little slower than normal getting this out, but we hope we made up for it with some good content. 
> 
> Again, your kind thoughts are just incredibly inspiring and we're so happy you guys love reading it as much as we love writing it!
> 
> Love you all! *mwah*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ARE ALL AMAZING AND WE LOVE YOU.  
> Seriously!  
> Things got crazy at the end of Summer so we really, really appreciate your patience. We are completely blown away by all your support and it really motivates us to keep the good stuff coming for you. We love to hear your thoughts, too! Any questions or comments you leave help us stay on track, and some of y’all have such good ideas it inspires us to put some completely new stuff in!  
> Again, we’re working as quickly as we can, but both of us not only have our solo stories gathering dust on the side, but real life getting in the way, which makes it hard to find time to work together. We appreciate your understanding and forgiveness for the delays in between chapters. We love you all and hope this chapter provides. We’ve been working on this one for nearly 2 months now! x3

* * *

Keith, to Lance’s overwhelming disappointment, is a wreck come morning. No sooner had the alpha begun to exhibit signs of progression did they discover that Keith had also succeeded in exhausting the last of his energy the previous night. His spontaneous transformation to keep up with Shiro and the long walk coming back from the edge of their territory had left him drained; down for the count.

Keith’s legs tremble as he tries to get out of bed, and his neck is tender and hot to the touch. He tries his best to hide it, to act as though he can push himself to change, but Shiro is quick to stop him with a comforting hand at his nape just shy of his wound  and a reassuring smile to match. The pack knows what transformation exhaustion looks like.

“Don’t strain yourself, Keith. I was actually pretty impressed you managed to shift yesterday. Once you’re fully healed it’ll come naturally. Trust me. Pushing yourself to change now will just make things worse.”

And Keith did. Trust Shiro, that is. But it didn’t detract from the fact he couldn’t shift and that Lance was glaring daggers at him from behind the alpha’s back.

“M-Maybe I can run like this,” Keith tried weakly.

Lance just scoffed in disbelief. “You’re going to run,” he started dryly, “for forty-two miles. Without stopping.”

“Lance,” Shiro said low in warning.

But Lance just waved an arm. “Shiro, there’s no way he can run like this. There’s no way _anyone_ can run like this. Let me just _show_ you where I found it, and Keith can stay--”

“No,” Keith growled.

Lance let his teeth click together as he snapped his jaw closed in surprise. He noted the clenching of the smaller alpha’s fists as Keith heaved a breath.

“I can walk it if I have to.”

“Keith, you obviously need to rest,” Shiro tries.

“I don’t,” he argued.

And Lance shook his head incredulously. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed? Keith, your neck is barely healed as is!”

“That’s none of your concern,” Keith snapped, feeling his hackles rise.

“Actually, as pack omega, it is my concern,” Lance growled. “So the answer is no.”

Keith returned the man’s glare with equal if not _more_ ire and crossed his arms along his chest defensively, mirroring Lance’s own line of refusal. “Since when did I say I was a part of your stupid--”

That’s Shiro’s cue.

“ **Okay, enough**.”

Both men flinched at the barked order, eyes fixing down in submission as the alpha looked between the two patiently. He’d known Keith and Lance would have their differences, both of them pushed so far on opposite sides of the spectrum, but the constant bickering had been overwhelming. Not _surprising_ , but overwhelming nonetheless. Lance was in on everyone’s business as was his job, and he wasn’t afraid to call someone out on their bad judgment. Keith was the epitome of a lone wolf, having learned to hide his weaknesses and refusing to rely on others. They could be so good for one another. And fantastic for the pack. If only they would give each other a chance. Any warm feelings Shiro feels at that thought are quickly snuffed out when he catches them glaring at each other.

Shiro pressed out a sigh. “Lance, you _know_ the sole reason we are doing this is so Keith can confirm what could be extremely important to the state of our safety. Right?” Lance flushed dark in the cheeks and muttered a soft, _yeah_ , before sinking into a crouch and wrapping his arms around his knees. He’s pouting, if only a little, but he smells rightfully guilty on Keith’s part, and that is something Shiro can work with.

“Keith,” Shiro called, waiting for the smaller alpha to meet his eye before continuing, “It’d be in your best interest to start thinking about how and what you should say to your pack mates before you say it. Lance has been a big help getting you patched up and you’re lucky he cares enough about you to voice his concern.”

Keith swallowed around the embarrassment in his throat, and glanced at Shiro with a sharp nod. He hadn’t yet considered himself a part of Shiro’s pack, but hearing the alpha say it without hesitation sent a blend of shame for his actions and warmth for the acceptance pooling deep in his chest.

_His pack..._

“Keith can ride me.”

Lance lurched upright suddenly, all pouting forgotten, just as Keith jolted where he stood. The omega sputtered, “ _Excuse me_?” and Shiro, oblivious as always, handed his backpack off to Keith who took it with uncertain hands before throwing it over his own shoulders with a wary expression.

“Keith can ride me so he doesn’t have to stay behind,” Shiro repeated; _clarified._

And even though that was substantially better, less graphic, Lance felt a stab of envy knowing Keith would get the chance to ride Shiro when the pack had all but practically _begged_ for such an opportunity.

Hell, Hunk had even tried to cash it in as a birthday present one year.

“You still remember the trail?” Shiro called to him, effectively forcing him out of his brooding.

Lance just rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he flashed Keith one final look to snub and crouched to shed his skin into something powerful and deadly. He shook out his hind legs, tossing another glance over his shoulder, and found Shiro and Keith watching him both, a perfect blend of familiar fondness and surprised awe.

He cocked his head, _coming?_

And Shiro shook out of his revere with a crooked smile before prowling low and easing onto all four of his monstrous paws. Keith looked rightfully intimidated, but Shiro was polite enough to crouch down and allow the man an easier pathway to haul himself up onto his back.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” Keith said nervously when he reached for the scruff of Shiro’s neck.

But the black wolf simply huffed his amusement and shook out his fur in further encouragement.

 _You won’t_ , he replied, knowing that Keith wouldn’t hear him as a human, but pushing the thought nonetheless.

Lance made a sound of impatience; the only warning he gave before he took off across the field and dove over the usual decline leading towards the forest's edge. He heard Shiro whine somewhere behind him, it’s indignation lost to the howl of wind in his ears, before Keith’s shout of excitement carried loud and clear over the gaining _thuds_ of Shiro's sprint.

Show off.

The trail Lance had followed the night before had gone on for more than ten miles, a straight shot from their pack house so that Lance would be able to find his way back should he get lost. Of course, he had continued on, and after the trail had blurred into a mess of bushes and underbrush, Lance had taken to following the horizon line of mountains losing the outline of the setting sun.

It’s a trek they can complete in under two hours if Shiro kept up to his pace. Even though Lance _was_ pulling back as it stood, but he also didn’t want the terrain rocking Keith harder than necessary given his wounds. So he keeps it slow, steady. Warns Shiro of different detours to avoid having to jump over fallen trees or intercepting creeks.

_How much further?_

Lance looked back to see Shiro’s nose had raised some, his eyes attentive as he scented. There’s a creep of irritation in his voice that’s oddly reminiscent of yesterdays argument, but Lance can tell it’s due to Shiro’s own failure to keep his omega from wandering this far.

 _Not much,_ Lance reassured, slowing his pace a little to bump shoulders with the alpha in a taunting manner. _I thought you said you could keep up?_

The heft of Shiro’s body changed then; his nails digging deep into dirt and muscles shifting low into a lunge. It’s a movement that precedes Lance’s sudden yelp of surprise as he felt his hind leg give out under the cheeky nip his alpha landed at his ankle.

 _I’m sorry,_ Shiro drawled apologetically, though he looked anything but. _What were you saying?_

 _Nothing_ , Lance thinks spitefully.

Absolutely nothing.

Because for as much shit as Lance had been giving his alpha up until this point, Shiro does a fine job making a point of his own by pushing himself a lot harder than Lance would deem necessary. Hard enough, that the three of them manage to cover the remaining distance in less than the expected hour.

Record time.

“Alright,” Lance clapped, already beckoning a hand towards Keith once the last of his fur inched back into non-existence. “Let the big guy take a breather. Can’t have him passing out on me again.”

Lance is gentlemanly enough to reach out a hand and help Keith ease down where Shiro had all but collapsed onto his belly; tongue lolling and breaths quick.

Keith echoed, “Again?” and Lance flashed the alpha a knowing look before stroking a reassuring palm down Shiro’s heaving spine.

“He might be big and bad, but that doesn’t exclude heavy. Hunk and him don’t do well long distance. Especially in the heat.”

Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under the sluggish drag of Shiro’s weight as he shifted into something reasonably human, if you ignored the flushed skin and dampened brow. And the tail. Lance has to fight to keep the squeal contained. It was rare to see Shiro partially transformed. Lance cherishes the sight.

“Yeah, well.” Shiro brushed himself free of any lingering grit and used the lip of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his throat; oblivious to the averting gazes. “Not everyone is underweight like you are,” the alpha accused. Lance smiled as Shiro turns, exposing his back. And his tail! Now Keith can see it, eyes wide in surprise. He looks to Lance for answers, but the omega is trying and failing to hide his snickers in his hand.

Shiro poked a finger into the flat of Lance’s belly and smirked at the offended squeak it elicited, knowing all too well the men would trail him in his continued ventures.

“I’m not underweight,” Lance defended, shaking himself out of it to take chase. “You guys are just huge.”

A soft sound of agreement tailed the end of Lance’s argument and had the two pack members stopping in tandem to look back at Keith in surprise; Lance’s eyes wider than Shiro’s. And Keith, noticing their stares, grew hot at the tips of his ears as he found interest in his laces and cleared his throat to divert their attention. “Y-You are,” he stuttered. “Big, I mean. H-Hunk included.”

An awkward shrug.

Lance looked between the two men, Shiro to Keith, Keith to Shiro, as if this were some kind of joke. Because the last thing Lance expected Keith to do so early in the game was _agree_ with him. But when nobody jumped out with a cliche knee-slap or an elbow nudge to the ribcage, Lance found himself grinning from ear to ear as he turned to Shiro with a shit-eating smirk.

“See? You two are so big, even Keith agrees with me.”

Shiro snorted and rolled his eyes as he waved them onward, Keith passing Lance as he heeded the call. And the smaller man muttered, “Don’t get used to it,” as he knocked his shoulder into Lance’s and walked ahead of him.

_Baby steps, Lance. Baby steps._

The path Lance had taken the previous night, isn’t really a path at all when it comes down to it, and Shiro is quick to call the omega up to lead them on a trail that one would think was dead. But it’s there. A thin and fragile thing, buried under the musk of dawn and the activity of wildlife. Even the most subtle of scents overpower its age and Lance is forced to stop a few times and retrace his steps.

“This is a lot harder when you don’t have a little friend to help,” he muttered quietly.

Though it must not be quiet enough because Keith offers a pointed, “Tsk,” and Shiro doesn’t have the mind to chastise because he too, was losing hope. A painful thought trickles through Shiro’s mind. A vision of Lance out here, alone, distracted and sniffing at bushes. Unmated and unscented. Open prey. A shudder runs through Shiro’s body, and he feels his anxiety start to build peak the longer they roam. The sooner they got back to pack territory, the better.

“Are you sure it was this way?” Shiro asked, for what was probably the millionth time.

Lance let out a frustrated sigh and continued a few paces ahead. If they followed, he honestly couldn’t care less at this point. “Yes, Shiro,” he grumbled. “I’m sure it was this way. The scent continued on past the stream and towards the opening over there.”

“Which would make sense if there was even a scent to follow,” Keith threw his hands out. “Lance, there’s nothing here. We’re lost.”

Lance kept his pace, refusing to show his uncertainty. “We are not _lost,_ you downer. Why do you have to be such a downer all the time?”

Keith scoffed, trailing after the omega. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I got my fucking _throat_ ripped out a couple of weeks ago? Or maybe because I’ve turned into some monstrosity of a freak show, and I can’t even be _that_ correctly. So I’m sorry for being such a downer when the asshole that did _this_ to me, is still out there doing god knows what to someone else. Really, that’s my bad, Lance.”

“Guys.” Shiro swept an arm out and made a pitched sound in the back of his throat. “Come on. Can we please just go one minute without you two at each other's throats? _Please?_ ”

Keith flapped a hand behind him in Lance’s general direction. “He started it.”

And Shiro waits expectantly as he walks, just so he can give Lance his time to come back with his own witty comment, but he ends up waiting longer than what was considered normal. Then longer _still._ Until Keith was forced to smack a palm flat against Shiro’s shoulder to garner his waiting attention.

Lance isn’t next to them anymore.

“Lance?” Shiro called softly, turning, and located the man behind them.

The omega had stopped at least a yard out from them, frozen at the edge of the tree-line breaking into what could only be the clearing Lance had spoken about. He didn’t turn when called, and it wasn’t until they were merely a few paces out from the man did they hit whatever wall had caused Lance to stop in the first place.

The valence is sickening. Underlying at most but layered in a thick film that had Shiro resisting the urge to gag, it was so familiar. Dark and tainted. Just like the night he found Keith in a pool of his own blood at the edge of his territory.

Whatever blood Keith and him hadn’t smelled back there was definitely pungent now in the way it assaulted the senses. Dry, no doubt tampered with, but still there nonetheless. There isn’t a lot of blood, but the dark energy is even more repulsive and acidic to the nose.

No wonder Lance had stopped to investigate.  

“Is--” Lance felt his voice waver and he swallowed thickly before glancing up at Shiro. “Is this him? Is this, Sendak?”

Shiro winced at the name and scoured the subtle trail of blood leading it’s way through the underbrush. He’s not sure how long it goes for, but Keith looks hauntingly determined to find its end as he stepped forward wordlessly and walked into the clearing with a grim frown.

“Yeah,” Shiro whispered back.

He recognized that scent anywhere. The overpowering hint of bloodlust. Whether rogue or stable, Shiro had never been able to figure out just how someone's blood could ever smell so corrupt. So openly destructive and raw in it’s dissatisfaction.

He had hoped to never smell it again and hated it even more intertwined with the afterimage of Keith’s fear and blood. Shiro has to hold back another gag.

Lance reached down and grabbed at Shiro’s hand, squeezing his comfort, before pressing close and walking to where Keith had held steady by a flattened patch of grass.

“Keith,” Shiro started, voice stern, but grounding; sympathetic and equally concerned in its delivery. He wanted Keith to know they were here for him, for however long he needed it, but the smaller man doesn’t give him an opportunity to continue nor does he seem even the slightest bit fazed by Lance’s comforting pheromones.

“I wasn’t attacked here,” he said.

Keith looked down around his feet indolently, eyes not really seeing in his empty expression, and turned only to mutter, “He bit me here but I wasn’t—” before whipping around in a hasty circle. “I was lying...there.”

Shiro and Lance watched Keith take a few shakey steps forward, eyes alight with the sudden frenzy, and had to follow close behind as the smaller alpha took off on an almost hysterical hunt.

“He dragged me,” Keith hissed bitterly. “I was taking observations in the field and I saw him. Right there.”

“You’re positive?” Lance asked hesitantly.

And Keith gave a sharp jerk of his head, _yes_ , before looking back into the field with a shuddered inhale. If he doubted his memories before, seeing the drag and puddles of blood dark against the dead grass was proof enough that he wasn’t recalling it wrong.

“He killed my tag; a female grey wolf I’ve been tracking for over a year now.” Keith scrubbed a hand through his hair and sniffled. “I must’ve alerted him. He _looked right at me,_ Shiro. A-and when I ran—”

“It turned into a hunt,” Lance cut in. “Didn’t it? And when you didn’t submit then he tried to force--”

Shiro lurched forward without warning, his hand tugging Lance in tow, shocking the omega into silence as he stepped into Keith’s line of sight and flashed an insistent shadow of an expression. He laid a solid and warm hand on Keith’s shoulder. “What did he look like,” he blurted. “I don’t want to push you, but Keith.” Shiro let go of Lance’s hand and placed both of his palms on the alpha’s shoulder instead. “Keith I need you to work with me. I need you to _confirm_ this for me. What did he _look_ like?”

Keith flinched, temple throbbing and hands coming up to push at where Shiro’s own had become overbearing. He wanted to help, he did. But thinking about this, having to _relive_ what painful bits he could remember had him shaking with pain as his throat flared and sent him backing a safe distance between himself and Shiro as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to be touched like that again. Held down and...

“Keith,” Shiro called again, softer this time, and he could feel where Lance was releasing so much _comfort_ and _reassurance_ and _calm_ that even Shiro was having trouble remaining a solid present for Keith to keep his foundation. But at least it looked to be helping, if only marginally.

Keith’s shoulders lost their tension and the wild look in his eyes smoothed into something sane; clear. He glanced at Lance with a wary frown before flicking his violet gaze up to Shiro’s own and shivering slightly.

“He had dark fur like you. It was just...muted. Lighter. And his eye.”

“His right eye,” Shiro insisted impatiently, trying to move this along. “Was it his right eye?”

Keith nodded, “There was a scar,” and Shiro’s nostrils flared.

Lance shrank back a bit at the surge of anger that seemed to ripple off Shiro in _waves._ Like a wall of rage slamming flat against him and sending his lungs skipping in his heaving chest.

Keith pants, having never experienced the brunt of the man’s anger either, and he hoped he never would, given the way he’s reacting to Shiro’s distress, hackles rising in defense; fight or flight kicking in frighteningly fast.

Shiro isn’t mad at _them,_  but neither can differentiate between the two as Shiro sucked in a sharp breath and tried to reign it in. He’s only half successful.

“We need to go,” Shiro said. “It’s not safe to stay here. Not when we’re this close to the turn sight.”

Keith snapped from his daze and cut the distance down until he was in arms reach of each of them. “Do you think he’d come back?” Keith asked desperately. “Would he come back for me?”

“He’s your sire, Keith,” Lance murmured, as if he were afraid Keith might snap at him for it. And even if he doesn’t his gaze is cutting. “It’s likely he’s searching for you right now.”

“Or me,” Shiro mutters, to the confusion of the others. “Which is why we need to _go_.” Shiro nudged them both towards the direction they came and ignored their huffs of discomfort as his clawed hands dug into their sides. “You two are not to come out this far from the pack house without me, do I make myself clear? _Lance_?” Shiro’s eyes were nearly wild as looked to the omega and made sure to catch his eye. “I know how much you like to run in the evening but I won’t risk losing you to that bastard now that we know he’s come close to our territory. I need you to promise me. My scent may protect you a bit but you’re unmated. Sendak won’t hesitate.”

Lance gave Shiro a sincere nod, one he tried to infuse with as much loyalty as he could muster, even fear had already begun tightening in the pit of his stomach. “I promise alpha,” he whispered, as they cross back under the safety of the forest overhang.

Shiro looks to Keith with the same question in his gaze and watched the man flush a little under the intensity. “I-I promise,” he stammered; added an, “alpha,” that was incredibly weak and riddled with insecurity, but it made Shiro’s heart stutter nonetheless as they freed themselves of the oppression left behind.

Shiro would have to report his findings to the FLI. Would have to censor said findings to leave Keith out of it lest they try and bring the man in for testing. They wouldn’t allow Keith time like Shiro’s pack was doing. They would try to rehabilitate him as soon as possible and get him in a pack. The rush would undoubtedly make things worse for Keith. But at the same time, Shiro needed to get an alert sent out and a tracking system up and running to notify him of anything and everything Sendak in the event he _did_ come looking for Keith.

They needed to be prepared for a possible confrontation. Shiro would never readily declare war, but it needed to be known that no one would touch his pack without answering to him first.

Period.

“I still think we should keep looking for clues.” Lance’s casual observation made both Shiro and Keith pause.

Keith looked away from where he’d been observing Shiro in favor of cocking a brow Lance’s way. “You could barely get us to the clearing without getting turned around. What makes you think you could find another clue?”

 _Here we go_.

Lance screwed his face up into that cute little scrunch Shiro was unabashedly fond of, so much so, that he would go out of his way to tease the omega just to see it, before he crossed his arms across his chest with a pout.

“Would it _kill_ you to say ‘thank you’ for once? You never would’ve found that knife if it weren’t for me in the first place.”

“I probably could’ve,” Keith countered. “And _you_ didn’t actually find it. You had help.”

“The first time.”

“But this time you had us walking aimlessly for hours.”

Lance’s face flushed an alarming shade of pink and he sputtered. “That’s because this forest is dense as hell and the trail is moon knows how long, Red!”

“So it’s my fault,” Keith said dryly. “I'm sorry, I’ll be sure to bleed _more_ next time so you can have your gold star moment with Shiro.”

“ _Excuse me!_ ”

“Okay!” Shiro pushed them apart and Keith blinked as if he hadn’t realized just how close he’d gotten to Lance. But he had. Gotten close to Lance that is.

“It’s time you two had a bonding exercise,” Shiro nodded dutifully. “This bickering needs to stop. Or at the very least it needs to reduce; _substantially._ I’m telling you right now, Pidge is going to have your tails in the next week if you can’t sort yourselves out.”

Lance whined, “ _Alpha_ ,” and not even that seductive drawl is enough to have Shiro putty in his hands.

This is final.

No negotiations.

“So what?” Keith asked. “You want us to like, hug?”

Lance snorted and Keith jabbed an elbow into his chest with a glare that had Shiro sighing; decision made.

“I’m heading back to the pack house. You two; either figure out a way to tolerate each other to make it back before noon...” Shiro stepped back and shook out his hands. “Or have fun walking until the sun sets.”

And like Shiro usually did when he was trying to teach a lesson, he quickly shifted down on all fours, black fur spilling down in a waffleing haze that screwed with the eye, before he huffed out a pant of a laugh that left no room for arguments as he turned on his paws and hauled ass through the trees.

“This is counterintuitive!” Lance screamed after him, but Shiro didn’t return.

_Dammit._

Keith was eyeballing Lance out of the corner of his eye, as if the omega were a ticking time bomb instead of a human, and Lance could already feel all of his comfort slipping through his fingers as the silence grew between them; stretching on for the endless miles ahead that alluded to some sort of shitty cordiality that Shiro wanted them to find.

“Like hell,” Keith muttered.

And Lance just stood there for a moment, completely dumbfounded, as he watched Keith straighten his jacket and start the trek through the woods as if it were a walk in the park.

Yeah, no.

“Try _acres,_ Keith,” Lance called, jogging to catch up to the man. Keith didn’t look at him and Lance didn’t really care as he easily matched his shorter stride and tried to reason. “There is no way you’re walking this in the condition you’re in, you’re just not.”

“My condition is fine, Lance,” Keith said dismissively, fighting to hide his discomfort.

But Lance was stubborn. “If your condition is fine then why are you limping.”

_Ha._

“What do you suppose we do then, huh? There’s no way in hell I’m getting on you and I’m sure you feel vice versa about it, so this is the only option.”

“Leave it to you to come to your own conclusion,” Lance griped.

“But am I wrong?”

Lance stayed quiet.

“Okay then. So if you’re done having this conversation, then I suggest you keep up and be quiet. We might be able to make it by midnight.”

“Midnight—” Keith whirled on him and Lance immediately quieted. “ _Sorry_ ,” he mouthed, straightening only when Keith continued to walk.

Realistically, if Keith weren’t so stubborn, Lance would just shift, suffer the two hours it would take hauling Keith back to the pack house, and they would walk away from this without sore legs and in dying need of food and water. Because _this_ , this whole walking home thing?

“It’ll be nine hours.”

“I thought I said for you to be quiet,” Keith called back.

Lance tossed up a hand and said, “I know, I know. Just, hear me out.” Keith scowled, but Lance didn’t let himself be deterred. “If I leave now, I can send Hunk back to get you in under two hours and you can ride back with him. That way, I keep Keith germs off of me, you won’t cry like a baby when you realize how fast I am, and we both make it home in time for lunch. Deal?”

Keith’s following up until the ‘Lance leaves him alone’ part and Lance immediately catches the dissociation. It’s in his eyes. The way the color darkens and his pale skin becomes ashen in the trickling sunlight. He won’t admit the idea has unnerved him, that much is obvious, but at the same time Lance doesn’t need to hear it to smell it. Keith’s scared, and Lance would never purposefully ignore that. No matter how much Keith got on his nerves.

A restless sigh pressed thin between Lance’s lips and he hoped Keith took it as one of making hard decisions and not out of reluctance. He didn’t necessarily _want_ to be the good guy right now, compromising his comfort for the sake of Keith’s, but the omega in him raged at the thought of leaving Keith alone when he looked so blatantly shaken. And with Sendak out there somewhere...

Lance stepped forward with a flippant shrug, as if he were really contemplating his options, and muttered low under his breath with a frustrated grunt that had Keith attentive.

“On the other hand, Shiro would kill me if I came back without you, and I don’t think my body can handle another scolding like yesterday.” Lance trailed off thoughtfully and listened for Keith’s footsteps to pick up behind him as he continued on in a mindless stroll. The alpha’s scent had changed to a softer one, that much he can tell, and to Lance’s overwhelming relief, most likely Keith’s too, the boy jogs to keep up with him. Looks like they won’t separate after all. Keith managed to rein in his stubborn streak in light of self-preservation.

Lance forced back a small smile.

The baby steps were working.

Now, trying to accomplish things in human form, things that they could do much easier in wolf form, was always an awkward experience. Lance’s inner companion had been squirming within him for a good half-hour now, impatient with such a mundane task that he hadn’t had to worry himself with in probably _years_ , and he wondered if Keith was doing any better being so freshly turned.

Keith’s wolf was no doubt itching to experience itself in full force like it had done last night. Impatiently waiting, rushing, and praying for itself to heal faster so it could finally explore itself in a new light. Keith does a good job hiding the urges, that or he can’t comprehend them in a way that he’d notice, because it doesn’t show on his face.

It’s in the taut muscle, though. The gnash of his jaw at times. His clenched fists. His frustration. He’s never really mad at _Lance_ , his wolf just wants to roam, sick of being cooped up and doted on. Keith had an independent streak a mile long and it was only a matter of time before he _really_ snapped.

“H-how was that, by the way.” Keith cleared his throat when Lance looked at him and there was a faint streak of pink in his face when he turned away.

Lance raised a brow, “How was what?” and Keith shrugged.

“Last night, with Shiro,” he clarified. “You looked...um. You looked pretty nervous. ”

Lance rolled his eyes, “That’s because I _was_ , genius,” and angled his face away so Keith couldn’t see him blush.

Their feet had created a rhythmic crunch of leaves throughout the vast forest and Lance was sure he’d feel incredibly uneasy if it weren’t for his sense of smell and direction. Though he’s pretty sure Keith is unsettled for that exact reason. He’s in a completely foreign area.

Him and Keith were two different worlds combined, and Lance could only imagine the stress of the change has had on Keith so far. A complete break from the life he used to know.

“Your neck,” Keith blurted, cutting into Lance’s train of thought--again. “Why did you do that thing to Shiro and I?”

Lance snatched up a good walking stick and smacked it against trees, bushes, swinging it mindlessly as they walked on in stirring silence. Then Lance said, “I was submitting,” because that’s exactly what he’d done and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He’d broken the rules, and he deserved to be punished by his alpha for it.

“But you looked scared,” Keith pressed.

Lance just frowned bitterly at the memory. “That’s because you were in my nest. I never let people that aren’t pack into my nest. _Especially_ when something like that is happening. It’s…” Lance stopped walking. “It’s just shameful. Like those humiliation tactics used to correct ‘unruly omegas who can’t follow their alpha’s orders’, or some shit like that. Shiro’s never done it with me before. With any of us for that matter.”

At least, not until Keith showed up...

Slim fingers curled gently around Lance’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden nearness of Keith, then _shudder_ at the sudden sensation as the pad of Keith’s pinkie brushed light against his scent gland and had Lance halting in his tracks. It felt almost like Keith’s inner alpha was trying to soothe Lance without knowing quite what it was doing. Lance held his breath.

“Hey,” Keith started carefully. “If I...scared you back then, I’m really sorry. If I’d known, I never would’ve stayed like I did. I just wanted--”

“To find out about your knife.” Lance offered a smile of understanding. “I get it Keith. You’re still learning. And I appreciate the apology, I really do. It means a lot.”

Keith held Lance’s shoulder for a couple seconds more, eyes searching Lance’s own insistently, trying to find something there that he can’t quite place, before he pulled away; taking his soft heat with him.

“Good,” Keith said, then he stepped away.

Lance watched Keith eye the forest with a subtle tilt to his head and tried to piece the man into something comprehensive. He wasn’t too keen on being best friends with the guy just yet, but Keith had apologized, done so sincerely, and Lance figured the least he could do was give the alpha a second chance.

And when it came down to it, the positives outweighed the negatives.

“Alright, Red.” Lance tossed his stick somewhere into the bushes and walked a few paces ahead of Keith to give himself ample room. “We’re making pretty bad time like this and I’m hungry and cold. This will be much easier and less painful for both of us if you just ride me.”

Keith’s eyes widened, a rejection already on his lips as he stuttered, “L-Lance,” but _Lance_ just shakes his head.

“You’re fatiguing, Keith. I’d usually be more than willing to sit back and let your alpha run the show, but there comes a time when you need to let your omega help you. So let me help you, okay? I wanna get back quick so I can get some food into you and make sure Shiro’s doing alright.”

Lance made sure his jacket was zipped properly and that his shoes were tied tight before looking up at Keith’s silence. The alpha hadn’t moved an inch, his cheeks flushed to the max at this point, and Lance couldn’t really pin the reason for such a look until he was hit with the heady scent of attraction. A layer of arousal.

Keith doesn’t look aware of his own pheromones but Lance can smell them just fine from here as he froze just as badly and flushed in equal measure.

“You don’t have to call yourself that,” Keith coughed, tugging at his collar in a desperate attempt to release the heat building around his chest. “You’re not... _my_ omega.”

But Keith doesn’t say it like he’s disgusted. He says it like it’s for Lance’s sake. Like he didn’t want Lance to feel _obligated_ to him after everything he’d done. He’s uncertain, maybe even a little guilty. And Lance can’t _not_ swoon at that point when Keith was being so raw with him.

Dare he even say _polite_.

It’s enough to have Lance blushing, if only slightly, and running a palm along the back of his neck in a bashful approach. “I-I’d like to be,” he murmured, a hopeful question in his directed gaze. “But only if you wanted it, of course. There’s really no rush, we just,” Lance sucked in a steady breath and let his shoulders sag. “Shiro would really like to have you as part of our pack, Keith.”

Keith winced and Lance felt his attempt at persuasion fall flat as unease started to filter into the alpha’s scent. Keith doesn’t want to hear it yet.

But at the very least, Lance had thrown the suggestion out there; Shiro’s _desire,_  out there. Keith could read between the lines, and Lance could see he was already doing so as he wiped his hands down his jeans and made a soft sound to draw the alphas attention,

“Just think about it,” Lance encouraged gently. And after a few awkward moments of silence, he rubbed his hands together sheepishly and nudged an arm out in invitation. “You ready to get outta’ here, then?”

Keith blinked once, twice, seemed to shake himself out of the solemn silence and gave Lance a pointed once over that had the omega smirking in response.

“If you buck me off, I swear I am going to shave you in your sleep.”

Lance snorted, “What,” and made a face at the alpha. “Scared you won’t be able to handle me, cowboy?” He taunted.

And Keith just flashed a knowing half-smile, one that had all of Lance’s earlier bravado going straight down the drain as his heart went thundering in his chest.

_Damn him._

Keith sauntered forward, arms crossed, and drawled, “Oh, I’m sure I can handle you,” with a not so subtle rake of his eyes. “It’s just a matter of seeing if you’ll be a good boy for me so I don’t have to.”

And that does it alright.

Lance tries and fails to hold back a whine at the wave of want that rushes through him, his body submitting without his consent. In a desperate bid to hide the head tilt and keep from sinking to his knees, Lance falls into his wolf form, stumbling back awkwardly and tumbling back into a berry-bush. He makes a sharp sound of surprise as he flails on his back, Keith’s howls of laughter filling the air.

Lance huffed, righting himself on all fours, and shook his fur free of the dead pine and twigs that had gotten tangled in his coat. He could still hear Keith laughing in the distance and it took a lot of restraint on Lance’s part not to leave his ass there for hurting his pride like he’d done. But the thought of facing Shiro, especially when Keith and him had just started to get along, had him padding up the subtle incline with only a disgruntled frown to show for it.

And seeing Lance emerge must be the funniest thing too because Keith doubled over the second he shouldered his way out of the bushes and heaved his humour into the ground below him.

“What,” Keith’s air caught and he gave a deep belly laugh. “What the hell was that?” He laughed hysterically.

Happiness looks absolutely amazing on the alpha, all white teeth and gleaming eyes, and even his laugh is warm. Thick in its delivery and making it so incredibly hard for Lance to stay mad at him when he looks so pretty.

But embarrassment is still prominent along Lance’s skin, hidden in the safety of his fur, and, because he can’t just let Keith think he’s some sort of pushover, Lance couldn’t help leaping up over the rest of the incline and rolling Keith into the ground, making sure the man didn’t hit too hard as he pillowed him against his chest.

A shudder of an exhale ruffled the bulk coat around Lance’s neck and he turned his gaze downward to stare at where he’d effectively pinned Keith beneath him. The alpha would no doubt have the upper hand against him in wolf form, but like this, Lance could easily overpower him.

Not that that’s intimidating to Keith in the slightest, because the alpha just laughs, violet eyes filled with just as much humour when he realized Lance was pouting.

“Stop sulking,” Keith chided with a chuckle. “You got me, didn’t you?”

 _Damn right I did_ , Lance thought huffily.

Keith’s smile lingered a bit longer before it smoothed into something pensive but equally handsome. He looked lost in thought for a moment, eyes taking in every detail of Lance’s face, before he reached a hand out hesitantly and stopped inches from Lance’s snout.

Lance wasn’t completely sure why he stopped, but he knows he does the right thing taking those last few inches into his own hands and pushing into Keith.

Keith’s throat worked desperately, gaze swimming in wonder, and he traced his fingers up to the top of Lance’s head slowly, before smoothing the hair back down when it mused under his touch. He scratched behind Lance’s perked ears, smiled when Lance’s tail wagged eagerly, and chuckled when Lance rumbled his pleasure with a soft whine.

“You like that?” He asked quietly.

Lance didn’t respond with a look; he merely tipped his head lower and sank onto his belly to give Keith full coverage.

Keith’s wheezed as Lance dropped all of his body weight on his lungs, but Lance was surprisingly light all things considered.

“You remind me of the she-wolf I was tracking,” Keith hummed suddenly. Lance cracked an eye open to show he was listening, but leaned deep into Keith’s hands as they smoothed down his flanks. “She was a timber wolf I’d been observing for over a year. Actually the reason I was out here in the first place.” Keith’s brows furrowed slightly and his hands went still against Lance’s sides as he stared blankly into the fur of his chest and pressed his lips into a line. He looked to be slipping slightly, so Lance pawed at him with a soft whine and sent a plume of comfort into his scent to get Keith blinking.

 _There you go_ , Lance thinks. _There you go, Keith. C’mon._

“She was a mother,” Keith continued and Lance let out a sigh of relief as his hands worked up along the scruff his neck again. “Had two pups with her last winter when I found her. She had a small pack but it always seemed like that was all she needed.” Keith thumbed the underside of Lance’s blue eyes and trailed his hands down his shoulders again when Lance just watched him. “She was pretty,” he hummed in addition. “Like you.”

And Lance felt his muscles spasm into a flinch at the comment. Keith’s hands suddenly felt less pleasant and more invasive as he eyed the flow of his coat with a trained eye.

Female grey wolves were beautiful, that much was a stated fact amongst their species. Slim stature with sleek muscles and gorgeous silver fur. Males were attractive but nothing impressive, a little smaller than typical male wolves and rarely bulky. Lance had always felt he’d fallen short in that arena in comparison, scrawny and lean. Especially when compared to his pack; he knew he stood out like a sore thumb next to all his gorgeous pack members. And now Keith was no exception. Lance wasn’t anything special. All the more reason why Keith and Shiro would be a perfect match for each other.

Lance nodded suddenly, eyes evasive, and rose up and off Keith, silently glad when his hands fell away. He had no doubts in his mind that Keith’s she-wolf was pretty, hell, he probably would’ve had some words of appreciation for her had they ever crossed paths.

But Lance? Lance was average; _below_ average. And having Keith’s eyes on him was making him realize just how high Keith ranked him in comparison to what was probably an endless line of wolves he’s observed. He didn’t deserve it.

“Lance?”

Keith pushed up onto his hands when Lance shuffled back with an uncomfortable look in his eye. It had Keith jolting, regret evident in every movement it took for him to stand because he didn’t think when touching Lance and maybe he had hurt him, but the omega just shook his head, _it’s fine_.

“So why—”

 _Because I’m not pretty, Keith,_ Lance thinks. _I’m not pretty, but...thank you._

It meant a lot. Really, it did.

Confused because he can’t hear Lance like this, Keith inhales, his nostrils flaring slightly, and _now_ he can smell the discomfort radiating off Lance. The insecurity. It’s sharp where Lance is usually soft and Keith feels his insides turn in frustration even when Lance turns away.

Conversation dropped.

 _Alright, Red._ Lance padded over to Keith and crouched down low enough for the man to haul himself up onto his back. He’s not as tall as Shiro, not nearly as wide, so Keith’s thighs bracket him more easily and the scruff of his neck is a perfect handhold for him to hang on. _You ready?_

Lance turned to look over his shoulder and Keith seemed to get the message because he tightened his hands in his fur and nodded.

“Lance?” Keith asked.

And Lance hummed, _yes?_ before turning to look back into Keith’s eyes.

The alpha scrubbed his nails behind his flicking ear and Lance resisted the urge to keen. Then Keith’s hand roamed further down and cupped under Lance’s snout and lifted upwards, forcing Lance to took up at him.

“In all my years doing wolf study after wolf study, I have _never_ seen anything as special as you. But believe me, if I had, you would’ve been my life’s work.”

Keith dropped his hand from where he’d gripped at Lance and returned it to the tangle of fur he had used to keep balance as the omega looked straight forward; emotion building in his throat.

It’s not exactly overwhelming, but Keith has practiced enough to scent the dying trace of discomfort that was readily overlapped by a layer of shy delight. Delight that has Keith’s alpha preening in gratification because _he_ did that. _Keith_ did. Another rare occasion where Keith and his wolf agree.

And for the first time since he was turned, Keith felt confident he was actually doing something right.

It felt good. Felt _great_. Felt even better when Lance took a few warm up trots around the area and barked his eagerness with a thrash of his tail.

“Alright, Lance.” Keith tightened his hold and shifted back a little to lean low, just like he did when riding his motorcycle. “Show me what you got. I want you to really wow me.”

Lance raised a brow, knowing all too well that Pidge had asked him to do the same thing when they first met, and she hadn’t asked since. But if Keith was asking...

Shiro had made sure his scent was easy and clear to follow, and as soon as Lance found it, he took off without so much as a word of warning. It left Keith scrambling to hang on and he heard the alpha gasp; shaken. But as soon as he found his equilibrium, Keith was letting out a hollar of excitement that blended seamlessly into Lance’s own howl as the forest raced by them in a blur of greens and dampened hues.

They would make it home by noon at this rate just like Shiro had predicted. But if Lance veers off the alpha’s scent and takes the long way home, that’s between Keith, him, and the sun setting in the sky.

* * *

Hunk’s already home when the two stragglers return. The beta gives a tired Keith and Lance a warm smile, the two already on their way into the kitchen, and beckons Shiro aside discreetly.

As soon as they step into the relative privacy of the living room, Shiro’s shoulders sag.

“I know what this is about, Hunk, and I thank you. You’re looking out for the pack.”

Hunk gives a smile as he crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow to allow Shiro to continue. It’s entertaining having Shiro as an alpha. He’s his own harshest critic. Hunk hardly has to say anything at all. Just pull Shiro aside, give him a disappointed look, and Shiro’s curling in with his tail between his legs. Only to his pack, though. Not for the first time, Hunk remembers how lucky they all are to have Shiro. Hunk tunes back in just in time.

“-so as soon as Pidge’s back, I’m going to start the pack bonding. It’s going to the the full thing. We need to be thorough so no one feels left out.”

Hunk hums in approval.

“Good. And what are you going to do about your feelings?”

Shiro stutters. “My what?”

“Your feelings. For Lance and Keith. What are you going to do about it?”

Shiro gapes, mouth open. Then shuts it with a snap. A bright red blush crawls over his face. He’s speechless.

Hunk chuckles.

“That’s probably the single biggest thing you can do to help your pack. Because right now it seems like your loyalties are split. You’re going above and beyond for Keith’s human side, but aren’t addressing his wolf’s needs. Especially since he finally transformed. He needs to bond with a pack soon, whether its ours or another’s.”

Shiro can’t keep the snarl from his face at the suggestion that Keith leaves, and Hunk sighs, the evidence right in front of him. Shiro catches himself then his face goes pale as he realizes what he had just done. He rubs his forehead.

“Oh moon, what have I gotten myself into?”

Hunk takes pity on his alpha and places a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, but he needs to hit his point home. It needs to stick.

“You think you’re helping Keith, but you’re really hurting him. And by giving Keith the extra attention and letting him get away with the rules, it looks to the rest of us, your actual pack, that Keith is more important that us. It’s hitting Lance pretty hard, which I’m sure you saw yourself. Scenting him helped, but it didn’t address the root of the issue. Lance thinks he’s going to be replaced.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “But he’s our omega! He’s _my_ omega! He’s...” Shiro trails off. “He’s a very important person to me. Maybe...even the most important.” Shiro looks down, lost.

Hunk shrugs. “Yeah well according to your actions, Keith might be the new important person in your life.”

With a squeeze Hunk releases Shiro. “You need to figure it out, Shiro. For the health of everyone in this house. And if you can’t, well, you know what I have to do. No matter how much I don’t _want_ to.”

Sober, Shiro nods. He know better than anyone the importance of following protocol.

“I understand, Hunk. Thank you for looking out for them.”

“Not just them,” Hunk smiled. “You, too. Oh and real quick.” Shiro paused when the beta caught him by the shoulder and raised a brow. “Keith says he’s ready to start the pack bond. But he’s scared.”

“Of us? Or the wolves?”

“Of losing control. He’s scared to give in. To be vulnerable. We need to be gentle with him during the bonding, alright? He needs to accept his wolf side, not fight it. We don’t want him going rogue like his sire during the full moon.”

Unwanted memories flicker through Shiro’s mind. Both past and present. His arm aches and he rubs it absentmindedly.

“I see,” Shiro said slowly. He glanced up at the large man and offered a reassuring pat to his forearm. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Hunk. I’m really lucky to have you as my beta.”

Hunk flashed a bashful row of teeth then, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he flushed. “Don’t mention it, man,” and added, “Anything I can do to help, really...”

“I know where to find you,” Shiro smiled back.

Hunk nodded slightly, refreshed in his reassurance, lighter in his step, and Shiro watched him go with a waning smile that trickled into something deeply thoughtful as he thought about Keith.

They would need to approach this carefully. More carefully than what they anticipated for when they first mentioned the idea of bonding. Shiro couldn’t drop the ball on this one, not when the state of the pack depended on him so heavily.

“I won’t let us fall apart.” 

* * *

It’s not until after lunch that things really begin to fall apart. If Lance could have it his way, he’d at least give this progression into his and Keith’s relationship a little time to simmer, a little time to solidify and manifest itself into _something_ real, but life had a way of kicking him while he was still down and the first blow had already come in the form of--

“Shiro, man.” Hunk jabbed a finger over a shoulder, his reflection in the bathroom mirror sending an eager smile Lance’s way as the omega peeked out from behind the shower curtain and stared at the beta in disbelief.

Because Shiro said that?

Hunk laughed, exasperation at it’s finest, and nodded his head dramatically as to not have to repeat himself again. “Yeah, Lance,” he drawled. “I talked to him about Keith. How he’s sort of been uneasy about the whole thing. But they agreed it would be safer to go ahead and try than wait for the next full moon. Since, you know, he could go--”

“Rogue and all, I get that, but--” Lance cut in, then he cut _off_ , the words getting lodged somewhere deep in his throat. Hunk let his lips purse patiently, eyes searching Lance’s face in the mirror as he tried to clear the heaviness and start over. “Did Shiro say anything else besides it being for Keith’s safety?”

Not that he cared, Lance just...wanted to make sure...they were including Pidge is all. Growing were and all that. She needed pack bonding just as much as Keith did.

But Hunk just cocked his head, eyes darting up thoughtfully before he pressed his lips downward and shook his head, “Not really. Why?”

Lance flinched, the feeling in his throat growing thicker, before he yanked the shower curtain closed and ignored Hunk’s startled sound of surprise.

“Lance--”

“That’s awesome,” he strained. “I thought that idiot would never get over his fear,” he laughed.

And Lance picks up on the hint of concern wafting off Hunk given the proximity, so he immediately douses himself in body wash to slather whatever emotions are leaking into his own scent, before Hunk has the chance to call him on it.

“Buddy, are you--”

“Fine,” Lance blurted. “Really, Hunk, I’m fine. I just got some soap in my eyes, alright?”

Hunk didn’t say anything further, but he also didn’t move from where Lance knew he was lingering beyond the shower curtain; no doubt listening for a sniffle or even the slightest of whimpers. So Lance screwed his mouth shut, glared at the corner of the bathtub and let the spray of scalding water pelt his back in tune with his thrumming heart.

_Please, just leave. Please, just leave. Please--_

“I’m gonna finish cleaning up out there,” Hunk finally sighed. “Come find me when you’re done, okay?”

Yeah. No.

Lance waited for the sound of the door to close and the retreat of Hunk’s scent to reach him before letting out a shaky breath that hitched. He breathed in, and out, just like that for what felt like hours as he tried to shove at the angry tears building pressure behind his eyes.

Realistically, Lance had no reason to be mad, which is why he pushes back against the frustration and tries to win it over with the power of reason.

Keith was their main concern right now, that much Lance understood. And even though he seemed to hate it at times, the omega in him couldn’t deny the fact that getting Keith to peak health was worth the trouble.

Still. _Still_. Lance had hoped, deep down under all that mature reasoning, that the conversation with Shiro had been taken to heart. That his alpha had heard him and was now taking the necessary steps to initiate something that Lance, and really _everyone,_  had needed for quite some time.

But to hear that Shiro, after everything they had talked about, was only just beginning to consider pack bonding, for _Keith_ no less, had the omega in him roiling.

His needs had been acknowledged, and still they were being neglected.

Did Shiro even--

Lance stops himself. Pushes through another calming breath and forces his inner self to settle; to digress. There was no point in getting mad when Lance knew the stipulations that came with letting Keith into their pack. Needs would be met in due time, but until that time came, they needed to focus on getting Keith to a place where they wouldn’t have to worry about him. To a place where they could have pack bondings and not have to obsess over the possibility of Keith breaking down.

Interruptions wouldn’t do them any good.

And there was no doubt Shiro had thought the same thing.

So Lance, in usual Lance fashion, towelled off as quickly he could manage and set out to make sure he was still pulling his weight.

Shiro was probably chomping at the bit to get Keith integrated into their pack, otherwise, why else would he have scheduled a bonding so soon? Keith, on the other hand...

Even with Hunk’s word, Lance wanted to make sure the alpha was ready to put himself in such a position. That he wasn’t just putting on a brave face for Shiro.

Sure, the man had proven himself in more ways than one over the past couple of weeks with the touching, the shifting, hell, even taking steps at becoming Lance’s _friend_. But like he had said earlier. Interruptions wouldn’t do them any good. And Lance could only imagine the devastation on Shiro’s face should Keith react badly and leave. Or be dragged away by the FLI.

Which is why Lance may come on too strong, but it’s only to make sure he’s doing everything in his power to keep his alphas safe. To keep _Shiro_ safe. Because a happy Keith meant a happy Shiro. Even Lance could do that math.

Nothing else mattered.  

Lance finds Keith in the living room tossing miscellaneous scraps of paper into the lit fireplace. He looks up when Lance approaches, streaks of orange flickering in his eyes, and glances back when Lance gestures to the door of their pack room with an incline of his head.

“Can I talk to you?” Lance asked quietly.

Keith shot him a look of wariness before tossing another piece of paper into the inferno and brushing his legs off as he stood. “Lead the way,” he gestured.

Lance nodded, grateful, but it most come out pained in the way Keith looks him up and down awkwardly and follows close behind.

He doesn’t look too happy being led into the unfamiliar space, but he lets Lance tug him in nonetheless with only a grunt to show for it.

Lance isn’t sure which one of them is more surprised by his complacency.

The sound of the door clicking closed is like a boxing match bell ringing, and Lance can hear the barked, “Round one,” in his head as he plopped down into his shared nest and looked up at Keith.

Keith, who freezes, stopped by some invisible barrier at the edge of the circle where he eyed the line of blankets and pillows suspiciously. Then, after a few awkward moments of silence, the alpha eventually forced himself to sit criss-cross right outside the border with an uncomfortable grimace.

He’s still painfully nervous about this pack stuff, but Keith understands that he’s the odd one out, and the sooner he learns to act like a wolf, the better for everyone. Well, the better for Shiro, and that was all he really cared about, if he was being truthful. Keith always put Shiro’s needs above his own. It was his form of penance.

Not that anyone would understand.

Lance jarred Keith from his thoughts with a sharp intake of breath that preceded a deep sigh out; the only warning Keith gets before a familiar calming floral scent permeates the space even more than it already did. He think it might be a way to get him to relax some, but judging from the anxious tap of Lance’s fingers, it might be for the benefit of _him_.

_Huh._

“Keith...” Lance worried his lower lip and glanced up. “The pack... _likes_ you.”

And Keith knows how to read between the lines. He hears the omission loud and clear.

_But I still don’t._

“But at the same time, everyone has their place in our pack. Shiro is the leader, Hunk is the protector, Pidge is the healer, and I’m the caretaker.”

He stops there, leaving an empty space for the alpha that only seems to grow bigger the longer Keith stays silent.

“Are you--Are you asking me what I am?”

And Lance scoffs, “No,” breathing the word as if he were in disbelief Keith would ask such a stupid question, and turned his head away. “I already _know_ what you are, Keith. You’re the favorite.”

And that comes out harsher than Lance would like; the words spilling ugly between his lips before he can really stop them. They say, here we are, the bitter truth he’s been holding in for the last few weeks. Out in the open, just like that. It was never supposed to come out. Especially not after they had just made progress bonding like they’d done today, but Lance would be lying if he said he didn’t feel slighted by Keith in the way Shiro had chosen his needs over Lance’s.

 _Again_.

But once it’s all out there, the gloves are off.

Keith jumps up abruptly and Lance hastily gets to his feet as well, quickly trying to backtrack before things escalate.

He blurts, “Keith, wait,” and goes to reach for the alpha, desperately trying to convey his regret. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay? But you have to understand--”

Keith clenches his fists and snarls at Lance. “What?” He barks. “What don’t I understand, Lance? Oh, that you hate me? Newsflash asshole; _I already know_.”

Lance throws his hands out in a placating gesture, and flinches when Keith glares at him. “I don’t hate you, Keith,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I’m just trying to look out for my pack mates.”

And Lance wants to add, ‘you included’, but Keith immediately takes it the wrong way and cuts him off with a growl to hide the hurt that bleeds into his expression.

And no.

Lance panics. “No. No, Keith, that’s not—” He growls in frustration. “ _Look_ , I’m just trying to make sure you’re ready, okay? That’s all I’m doing.”

“Ready for what?” Keith snapped, and Lance flinched back with a heated glare.

“For bonding!” He all but yelled; threw his hands up with a flustered sound and tried to get Keith to _listen_ without getting so goddamn defensive. “I’m _trying_ to make sure you’re ready to bond with us, Keith.”

The alpha’s brow shot up and he shook his head in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about, Lance? I thought you wanted me gone.” He hissed.

“I never said that,” Lance argued. “The only person that wants you gone here is you, Keith. And don’t look at me like that ‘cuz I can see it on your face.”

Keith immediately flushed dark in the cheeks and he tried to avert his gaze when the accusation hit home.

“See?” Lance pointed. “You don’t even know if you want to be with us, you just think that you do because Shiro is _safe._  He’s familiar. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you want to become apart of our pack, Keith? Can you?”

Keith blinked out of whatever revere he’d gotten lost in and racked Lance over with his eyes. “Even if I couldn't, that’s none of your business, now is it?”

“Actually,” Lance glared back, “It is. And like I’ve told you a million times before, as pack omega, I need to make sure you aren’t doing anything to hurt the pack. _Especially_ Shiro.”

“Because Shiro comes first?” Keith spat icily.

The pain has comeback, fresh and deep in Keith’s gaze as he sneered as a means to mask it even though Lance could smell it on him. That and the heightening aggression.

Because what did wounded animals do when they were cornered?

They attacked anything that got close.

But this was one place where Lance wouldn’t budge. Not when Shiro’s feelings were at risk.

Lance clenched his fists, suddenly angry, and worked his jaw like that would be enough to dilute the acid spilling into his words.

“Shiro _always_ comes first, Keith, because he doesn’t deserve anything less,” Lance said tightly. “So I have every right, to question your commitment to our pack, when the one whose most affected by your decision is my alpha. So which is it?”

Keith flinched, surprised by Lance’s sudden attitude change, and tried to hold his own. “W-What?”

“ _Shiro_ , Keith,” Lance growled. “Are you just telling him what he wants to hear so you don’t have to be alone or do you really want to become apart of our pack? Because I don’t know about you, man, but I sure as hell have noticed the way Shiro looks at you. He wants you to _stay_ , Keith.”

Keith’s heart is racing. “What the fuck are you getting at, Lance?” He blurts, frantic for a change in conversation.

Because Keith had left his feelings for Shiro aside when he took up the animal behaviorist job last year. Back then Keith _wasn’t_ a wolf and he was never going to be. It was better to remove himself from the picture and allow Shiro the opportunity to find a werewolf mate of his own. But now Keith _was_ a wolf, and that had changed everything. His feelings were getting harder and harder to deny. Keith had hoped to keep his secret to the grave. But here was this stupid omega coming and calling him out. Digging up insurmountable things and testing him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

The next words leave Lance’s heart aching, but he needs to say it. He knows he’s channeling repressed feelings from his high school days, and he knows he’s riding the emotions of their entire conversation, but he can’t help it. Again, the guilty party is right here in front of him, keeping Lance from his dreams of a happily ever after and dangling Shiro right in his face.

When did Lance get the fucking break here, huh? When did anything ever go _his_ way?

Whatever feeble connection he’d built between himself and Keith was damaged and crumbling, but Lance couldn’t think to care any more.

“Shiro deserves better than some half-assed crush, Keith!” Lance yells. “And if you weren’t 100% committed to being apart of this pack, Keith, Shiro would be ruined!”

Keith is giving back as much as he can. “I’m doing this for Shiro, Lance! Why the fuck can’t you see that? I’m doing all this for him!”

He’s still not getting it. Lance shakes his head. “No, you aren’t! If you really cared about him you would sort your own shit out first. Shiro needs a pack to help him, not cause more drama. He needs a packmate who’s stable.”

Keith scoffs to keep that from stinging. Because it’s fucking true. Keith is a goddamn mess. “What, someone like you, Lance?” he bites back. Keith’s neck is stinging and he grips it with a hand. He’s charging in way too fast, saying things he knows he’ll regret, but he’s hurting and he needs to protect himself. If he’s going down he’s taking Lance with him. Keith was always a fighter and never a quitter.

“Yes, someone like me! Keith, our pack was rock solid before you came along! It’s because I keep things together. And ever since you’ve been here Shiro’s been all over the place and I can’t do anything about it. Can’t you see it? You’ve already won!”

That thought is terrifying, but Keith has to make sure. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means he already chose you!” Lance is crying already. “He chose you and you’re not what he _needs._  Shiro will bend over backwards for your needs, and you are going to be the death of him.”

No. Absolutely not. Keith would kill himself before letting any harm come to Shiro. This fucking omega has no idea the bear he’s just poked. “Lance just shut up! I’d never hurt him!”

“You already have, Keith!” And because Keith still fucking doesn’t get it, Lance makes sure to look the alpha right in the eye and felt his words cut on the way out as he spat, “He deserves better than _you_.”

Keith sees red.

“ **Shut the fuck up and submit, Omega!** ”

And Lance feels his knees crack hard against the floor before he can even register the pain. 

* * *

The all out scream of Keith’s voice catches Shiro’s attention first, Hunk’s soon after, and they both clamber over one another in their panic to get upstairs just as the yelling breaks off. The very thing Hunk had been _dreading_.

Lance was gasping when Hunk finally threw the door open, chest heaving hard against his knees where he had curled over, and he sobbed, “F-Fuck,” as he dug his nails hard enough into his palms to draw blood.

The omega was clearly fighting the order, tears streaking clear lines down his face in his refusal to bare his neck like he desperately wanted to. And it’s Shiro who dives for him first.

Shiro cupped his face in hand, apologizing over and over, and brought their foreheads together to kiss Lance’s tears away.

“You’re okay,” Shiro gasped. “Lance, you’re okay, look at me. Look at me, sweetheart.”

Hunk turned from them both and grabbed Keith by the shoulder, walking the smaller alpha back until his back slammed flat against the wall and his eyes glazed over from the impact; stunned.

And when Hunk speaks next, his voice is frigidly calm, but his eyes burn angry as hell.

“Call it off, Keith. Now.”

“I-I don’t-”

Lance’s sobs pitch higher with a new wave of pain and Hunk shoves Keith harder.

“Now, Keith!” He barked.

And Keith caved. “Stop!” He screamed. “Lance, stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Hunk immediately whipped around to see if it had worked and turned just in time to watch Lance fall limp into Shiro’s chest. The alpha gathered him up quickly, face pale and eyes distant with worry, before turning and carrying Lance the rest of the way into his nest with hushed words of comfort.

Keith’s lower lip trembles. “I-I didn’t mean to.”

And Hunk is already calm enough to press out a relieved sigh and tug Keith towards him. “We’re doing this now,” Hunk announces. “Pidge will be home any minute to join us, and when she does, none of this will even matter because we will be a _pack._ ”

Hunk turns his look on Keith who shakes in his grip like a leaf even though the anger has long since fizzled out from the beta.

“What--what was that? Hunk? Hunk, I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t--” Keith’s nostrils flared and he whined, “Oh god, _Lance._  I didn’t--I _need_ him, Hunk. He needs to know.”

In a surprising show of strength, Keith fights out of Hunk’s grip and stumbles into the nest.

“Wait,” Hunk yelped. “Keith! Let Shiro lead it!”

But Keith doesn’t hear him. Instead he crawls to where Shiro is holding Lance, and hovers above them with a shuddered intake of breath that catches on his regret. He whines, hesitant when he wraps his arms around the both of them, but still doing his best to keep his scent strong so as not to jar them. And he feels where Shiro tenses under him, where Lance whimpers but reaches a hand out nonetheless. Keith has already been forgiven, had _been_ forgiven the second Lance said what he said, but Lance’s body is still trying to purge the shock and adrenaline from his body and can’t quite decipher between the flood of emotions.

Shiro isn’t sure what is happening. This is nothing like their normal pack bonds. But this situation is anything but normal, and Shiro lets his inner wolf direct his movements. Omega soothed for now, and triggered alpha calmed, Shiro decides it’s time. He pulls back enough to remove his shirt, then eases off Lance’s and Keith’s. Shiro releases pheromones of _loved_ and _protected_ , and suddenly it’s like they are all in sync. Shiro and Hunk and Lance. Wolf minds connected in pack. Hunk joins them then, shirt off, and they all converge on Keith, eager to claim him as _theirs_. Keith whimpers, confused, lost, but eager to be accepted. At the first touch of Shiro’s hand Keith flinches, so Hunk pulls Keith back against his broad chest and holds him while Lance fills the air with _calm_ and _relax._  The omega gently holds Keith’s wrists in his hands and rubs with his thumbs, activating the glands there. Keith gasps, but doesn’t pull away, and then Shiro leans in over Lance to nose at Keith’s neck. Shiro tentatively licks Keith’s left scent gland, but even at the light touch pain rushes down Keith’s body and he cries out. The damage is great, and touch there will likely always hurt him, Shiro notes sadly. Keith might never be able to bond properly.

It’s a tragedy, Shiro thinks. His pack mourns with him.

Shiro leaves the wounded gland alone and goes for the right one, and this time the warm sensation of Shiro’s tongue sends a shiver of pleasure along Keith’s spine. Lance smiles as he watches. He knows how that feels and loves it. Another lick and Keith closes his eyes, overwhelmed, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Shiro finds he secretly loves how sensitive Keith is, but keeps that thought to himself. Keith, following his wolf’s lead at this point, bares his neck, accepting Shiro and his offer of pack. Shiro rumbles approvingly, and his packmates echo the noise. There’s a nuzzle at the gland to release Keith’s own pheromones, and then Shiro bites down. It’s a light bite, not a claiming one but a bonding one. A temporary mark of belonging. Keith throws his head back, arching at the sensations. He feels like he’s drowning. Like he’s burning hot and ice cold at the same time. Keith feels himself getting swept up and away, so he focuses on the only thing rooting him. The place where Shiro’s mouth is on his neck. That point of contact helps keep the flood at bay.

Keith loses track of time after that, but he comes slowly to himself when Shiro pulls away. Everything feels heady, like he’s full, happy, sated, satisfied. Like he’s eaten a marvelous feast, or had the best orgasm of his life. Keith’s body is loose and heavy, and if not for Hunk he would have swayed to the side. Hunk seems to sense this and eases Keith down into the nest of blankets. Then Hunk turns to Lance, offering supporting hands on his shoulders, pressing down lightly to keep him grounded. For some reason, Keith can feel the others even as he lies there on the blankets. It’s muted, but he can feel Shiro’s satisfaction. He can feel Hunk’s happiness. He can feel Lance’s excitement. From his position Keith can see Lance bare his neck and close his eyes, eager to be claimed by Shiro in the only way the alpha will claim him. That thought makes Keith sad, and a tear runs down his face. Shiro also seems affected, because he tilts his head and zeros in on Lance’s open face. Suddenly aware that he’s letting his thoughts run wild, Lance’s eyes fly open and he tries to jerk out of Hunk’s grip, but the beta holds tight. Shiro lifts Lance’s wrists and rubs. Comforting. Shiro knows he can’t claim Lance now. This is a pack bonding after all.

But maybe in the future...

Lance will always have a place by Shiro’s side. The omega inhales shakily, and Shiro nuzzles Lance’s neck, promising him _love_ and _protection_ and _devotion_. Then he bites, and Lance can’t hide the euphoric expression that comes over his face. But Shiro and Hunk and now Keith understand. There is no bond more driven by instinct than the one between and alpha and an omega. Lance is slave to his wolf nature, and he whines in apology, sorry for being a burden to his pack. Sorry for the feelings he can’t control. But Shiro is quick to reassure him, along with Hunk and Keith. Lance is perfect just the way he is.

Shiro releases Lance and pulls him out of Hunk’s arms and into his own. He lays Lance down next to Keith, and the two clumsily paw at one another until they are wrapped up in each other’s arms. Alpha and beta watch over them, pleased, until Shiro beckons Hunk to him. Hunk smiles and bares his neck, lifting his wrists to Shiro. Just as dutifully as he did with his other pack members, Shiro activates Hunk’s glands and softly bites his neck. Hunk sighs in relief, feeling at peace now that their pack’s bond is strengthened and is nearly completed.

They both hear Pidge enter the house and thud up the stairs, her wolf leading her to the pack. Hunk drags himself to the nest besides Lance and Keith as Pidge removes just her shirt, wearing just her bra, and kneels before Shiro. Pidge, having not presented yet, does not have fully developed glands, so instead of a bite she gets a thorough scent marking. Shiro nuzzles her neck, and she laughs, pawing at him ineffectively. When he’s satisfied, Shiro throws her shirt back at her and turns to the nest. Pidge scoffs at it, throwing it back at Shiro and diving for the safety of the nest as Shiro gives a playful roar and jumps in after her. He proceeds to tickle her sides until she’s laughing so hard she’s crying, then he gathers everyone up in his big arms and settles down to sleep.

It’s pack, and it’s perfect. Tomorrow will be the start of a new day. He’s going to build his pack up, make sure they are healthy and strong and their bonds are solid. Then he’s going to talk to Lance and Keith and try to figure out these complicated things called feelings. 

* * *

Keith wakes up in the middle of the night. Everyone is still sleeping, so he silently extracts himself from the pile of dozing wolves and makes to leave the room. _His pack_ , his wolf sings happily. He’s almost reached the door when Lance groans and sits up. Keith meets his eyes and freezes like a deer in the headlights.

“Keith?” the omega whispers.

“Lance.” Keith has so much he wants to say. Where does he start?

“About earlier. I’m so sor--”

But Lance stops him with a hand. “It’s fine. We both got a little carried away and...yeah.” 

They both pause, at a standstill.

Hunk snores and rolls over, and Keith beckons Lance outside the door.

They quietly make their way to the kitchen, and Lance starts putting together the makings of hot chocolate. He sets two mugs out. If Keith has thoughts on the matter he doesn’t say anything.

It’s quiet until Lance is filling the mugs. “Anyway, don’t worry about it,” he finally says.

Keith shakes his head.

“No Lance. You were right. I am a mess, and it’s the last thing Shiro needs. I’m not sure of my feelings just yet. I can’t tell between what _I_ want and what’s just the wolf talking. I need some more time. But I promise I will be there for Shiro. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Lance hums. He wants to tell Keith that there is no different between what the human and the wolf want. They are one and the same. But he’ll let Keith figure that out on his own.

However, Lance can man up and also apologize.

“Keith,” Lance says as he hands over a warm mug. “I’m sorry, too. All of this is still so new, and I know you knew Shiro from before, and I let myself get a little carried away. You just...have what I’ve always dreamed of.” Lance makes to walk away, mug in hand, when Keith’s voice stops him.

“And what’s that?” He asks, voice nearly a whisper.

Keith sees where Lance’s brow furrows, a look of contemplation screwing his soft features into something tight, before he smiles, dismissive, and murmurs, “His attention.”

And with that Lance retreats outside.

* * *

A curious scent has the scout perking up. It’s overly sweet, with flavors of chocolate and whipped cream. Silent as the night, the scout creeps forward, not disturbing a single leaf on a bush. Prying eyes zero in on the large house draped in darkness. Ah. A door opens and a male werewolf steps out with a mug of cocoa. He sits in the rocking chair on the porch with a sigh and drapes the blanket around himself.

He smells of omega. And an unmated one at that.

What a foolish boy.

Another sniff and the scout picks up the whiff of the pack alpha.

Still unmated as well.

A lucky find. His alpha will be pleased by the news. The alpha called Shiro has still not chosen a mate.

There will be two targets this full moon.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! We're back!  
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> Hopefully y'all enjoy this one!

* * *

 

“Alright, let’s do a combo. Heel thrust, jab, cross, roundhouse. Don’t forget to put your foot to the side after that heel thrust in preparation for your punches. And keep your guards up! Begin!”

His pack gets into ready position, two pairs on the two punching bags. Hunk is behind the bag holding it in position for Keith, and Lance is holding his bag for Pidge. The fighters get into ready position with their guards up, and work through the combination. Keith’s hits are quick, but not as strong as they should be, and his guards don’t stay up in between hits. That means his hits won’t do enough damage to his opponents, and with sloppy guards, he could take a nasty hit. But he’s got the potential to be a strong fighter, and would make a fantastic co-leading alpha one day. Pidge has her guards up and is hitting with power, but her strikes are not hitting high enough and she pauses in between sets. She needs to build up her endurance and make sure to hit in the right locations to have maximum impact, and to keep herself from getting hurt from a mishit. She doesn’t yet have access to her full strength, that will come once she turns for the first time, but knowing how to use her body will make that transition even smoother for her. Shiro comes around to each and offers suggestions for improvement. After a minute he calls them to stop, and shows them how to switch the routine for the other side, hitting with the left leg first. Another minute, and the partners switch out.

Hunk’s hits are solid and strong, and he’s learning to keep light on his toes and to bend his knees for faster combinations. Shiro’s been working with him for a while now at the beta’s own request. Hunk knew there would be times he would need to have Shiro’s back and help protect Lance and Pidge, so he came and asked for some personal training. Hunk moves faster than he did before and he’s more flexible, a perfect ace-up-the-sleeve to catch people by surprise as they assume he’s heavy and slow.

Today is a good day. His pack is focused, giving minimal complaints, and working hard, which they are doing more often as hunting day approaches. They understand that Shiro trains them for their own protection and health. And they can all see the progress they’ve made so far. His pack has come a long way to get where they are now.

It’s been a week since their emergency pack bonding, or as Hunk so fondly called it, ‘the incident’, and the full moon was only days away. Shiro’s gotten them back on schedule. They eat on time, sleep on time, and now they have some down time to work on their themselves. The full moon is approaching, and Shiro wants everyone in tip top condition for their first hunt as a bigger pack.

He fetches water for them and lets them cool down.

“Excellent job today, guys. I’m proud of all of you. Go ahead and wash up, I’ll get lunch together.”

Shiro smiles as his pack cheers. It’s not because of his cooking skills, since Shiro isn’t anywhere near Hunk’s level. But Shiro is their leader, their alpha, and by providing food to them he’s showing his devotion to their health. Keith trails after him as he heads to the kitchen. He watches Shiro gather up bread and the makings of sandwiches.

“I’m not sure why my wolf is so happy. It’s just a sandwich.”

Shiro smiles. “It’s just wolf nature. Your wolf is pleased that he’s being cared for by his alpha.” He puts aside his first sandwich, a pb&j, and starts on a ham and cheese. “I really should cook more often for you guys but, well, Hunk is just incredible. Got to make sure you eat the yummiest food available.”

They fall into silence. Shiro busily setting up bowls of hard boiled eggs and grapes to go with the cheese platter while Keith looks on. Finally, Keith convinces himself to speak.

“I, um. I’ll need to check in with my team soon. I need to let them know my situation.”

“Your team?”

Keith nods. “The other biologists I work with. We’re due to report our findings soon. I need to tell them that I’m leaving.”

Shiro stops peeling an egg. He had forgotten that Keith was out working when he was turned. Actually, he had thought Keith had forgotten, too. It must show on his face because Keith clears his throat. He looks a little guilty, like he thought he should have brought it up earlier. Shiro manages a smile and tries to look reassuring.

“I see. Well, yes you should check in. But you don’t need to leave your job. We all have things on the side.”

“I have to.”

“Do you want to?”

Keith slams his hand on the counter. “It’s not about what I want! I don’t.... Everything’s changed, Shiro! I’m not that person anymore. I can never go back to that life!”

“Woah, woah, woah, Keith. You’re still you. Nothing’s changed.”

It turns out to be the completely wrong thing to say because Keith pulls back as if struck and snarls.

“Everything’s changed! I’m a freak! We still don’t know if I’m going to be a danger to others or not!”

At Shiro’s wide-eyed look Keith laughs bitterly. “That’s right. I did some research. Sires always have a connection to their spawn. A pull. He can sway me any time he wishes.”

Shiro’s pleading with him. “That’s not true. Not exactly. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“There wasn’t a body, Shiro! I have to assume he’s still out there. Until he’s found I should keep my distance from everyone.”

Shiro feels a chill settle over him. He can’t keep the biting tone from his voice. “Wait, everyone? Are you leaving us, Keith? You’re part of the pack now.”

Keith falls silent and shakes his head. He doesn’t know yet. He can’t find the words to describe the fear he feels and the sick repulsion that someone else is in control of him. He’s a ticking time bomb, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt anyone.

Shiro crowds in, cornering him against a cabinet. “Keith, look at me.” With a sigh of defeat Keith complies. “You’re still the Keith I know. The pack cares for you. And honestly you’re safer with us then you would be on your own. You’re still learning the ropes, and we can protect you. I’ve...dealt with rogues before. I know how they work.”

The two are nearly chest to chest now, and Keith leans just enough to rest his forehead on Shiro’s chest. No words are spoken, but Shiro can feel the tension leaving Keith’s body. Taking that as permission, Shiro wraps his arms around the smaller man.

“You’ll be safe with us, Keith. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

* * *

 For someone known to preach about the benefits of self-sufficiency and independence, Lance still liked to think he was okay, if not completely perfect, at following orders. At  _fulfilling_ them. He’d blame the omega in him. The hindbrain functionality created by the most vital of microscopic pieces in his DNA, transcribed into that colorful string of coding that, when it came down to it, became the driving factor for their _‘needy, but docile, nature’_.

Omegas were good at following alpha-beta commands, what could he say? They were, for lack of a more dignifying phrase, born to serve.

To _submit._

And even though Lance had spent the better part of his twenties catering to the needs and wants of his ever-growing pack, the primal urge within calmed by each and every one of his successes, not a month went by that his ma failed to call and remind him of his roots. Remind him that just because he _could_ do something, and do that something well indeed, didn’t mean that was all he was good for.

“ _Because you are so much_ more, _papi. You being there doesn’t change that. You hear me?”_

Lance could hear her, but only just barely over the muddled chorus of agreements that drowned out the rest of his ma’s words. Loud enough that he has to distance himself from the speaker, but not strong enough to dilute the hissed threat pouring frigid down the line. Lance flinched in tune with it, eye cracking closed in projected sympathy as the smack of rubber on skin crackled sharp through the speaker, and he waits the necessary time to save himself from the possible rupturing of an eardrum.

Because Marco wails, Rachel snickering somewhere nearby, and Lance listened to the rest of the carnage with the tiniest of smiles before his ma’s voice came back, breathless in its delivery, but strong as ever. “ _If_   _I so much as_ think _that that alpha of yours isn’t treating you right, Lance, so help me, I will—”_ There was another crack, this one louder, and it sent Lance jumping a bit before he laughed his reassurance and returned Hunk’s knowing grin with a flash of his own. _“Don’t think I won’t,”_ she threatened. _“Alpha or not, that boy is still a shy teenager to me, and I won’t hesitate to put him in his place should he ever lay a finger on you.”_

“I know, ma,” Lance had hissed hastily. Then softer, “I know. But you know Shiro. He isn’t like the alpha’s back home.” Never had been, really. Because despite what some people may think, “He actually likes having me here.”

_Not to mention he’s the first alpha that never asked him to change..._

But what’s more important is that Shiro had never made Lance feel dependent. Like he couldn’t leave. He ensured Lance’s voice was heard as loud as any others—even _after_ Shiro had learned just how loud Lance could be—and he never hesitated to remind Lance he was free to be whoever he wanted. Free to do _whatever_ he wanted should as long as it didn’t interfere with the more standard of pack rules.

To Shiro, they were equals.

To Shiro, Lance was _more_ than your average, everyday omega.

Something like that, no matter how small it may seem, was still so incredibly hard to come by as an omega; societal progression or not.

So it didn’t take long for Lance, who had admittedly spent the bumpier parts of his pack initiation trying to prove his independence to Shiro—much to Hunk’s disapproval—to experience the more... _personal_ perks that came with listening to the alpha. The man would go out of his way to commend Lance, for one. Ruffling his hair, letting his touches linger; sometimes even scenting Lance longer than one would deem necessary. It was a tingle of euphoria that independence couldn’t match at times. A wave of _acceptance_ and _belonging_ that was unparalleled.

Which was probably what had Lance hesitating as much as he was now. Caught, battling the faults in his own biology and the desire to listen to his mamá, at 4 a.m on their lonely front porch.

Because Lance _really_ liked to think he was good at following orders. Especially ones he was assigned to by an alpha merely worried about his safety, and _not_ forcibly bestowed upon him by some stupidly confused _mullet_ that had no idea what he was doing in the first place. Because all Lance wanted to do was fulfill said order, and do so to the best of his ability.

Subtle jab in there, but he needed to come full circle with this point he was working at.

Shiro had explicitly told Lance not to cut through the line of their territory without his requested presence. Which, for anyone else, wasn’t a problem.

Not unless they wanted to go hunting.

But for someone like Lance, who’s running trails just so happened to cut through every direction of their yawning territory, it was the equivalent to a prison sentence.

It was torture.

Ever since Keith’s arrival and leading up to their pack bonding, Lance had been stretched to his limit and beyond trying to fulfill his role as pack omega. Bonding had done a lot to correct the bulk of Shiro’s earlier faults, sure, but now Lance was desperate to run off the new-addition jitters and clear his head of any lingering emotion and stress.

But Shiro had told Lance, ‘no leaving pack grounds’. Had pulled Lance in by the shoulders with a gentle shake, “ _I mean it,_ ” when Lance went to argue the following evening. “This isn’t up for negotiation.”

No means no.

Now, technically, because Lance _loved_ being technical, Shiro hadn’t given him a direct order, per se. It was definitely nowhere _near_ an alpha command either, so why Lance couldn’t take those few measly steps off their polished front porch was a goddamn mystery.

“Ugh.”

Lance crossed his arms over the banister and smooshed his cheek against his wrist with a pout. Disobeying Shiro just this once wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? He’d managed to abstain from doing just that for the past week anyway, which was saying something in its own right considering the longest he’d ever lasted was a solid two days, three if ignoring Hunk’s advice didn’t count. Breaking the streak now would honestly be long overdue.

Lance dug a fingernail up under a slip of wood and pressed his lips into a small frown as he tried to ignore the nonexistent window of time closing overhead. If he contemplated any longer, the sun would come up and ruin any chance he had at staying under the radar.

He supposed he could always just, run into town. Give his early morning antsiness a literal run for its money while keeping Shiro’s overwhelming disappointment bay. But town meant cars, and cars meant crosswalks, and crosswalks meant _pedestrians_ —

“Good _God_.”

This was hopeless.

Lance pushed himself further along the tops of the banister, until his belly folded over the cut in the wood, and fixed a glare down at the dirt below cursing his biology. Usually, Lance wouldn’t think twice about disobeying such a tedious order, too caught up in his own desire to seek new experiences to rationalize, but after such a long period of chaos and instability within their pack? The last thing Lance wanted to do was ruin what little they’d regained when things had _just_ started to calm down.

Because believe it or not, they were growing stronger. Together, as a unit. Spirits were lighter. Moods; happier. And for the first time in a long time, Lance felt like he could finally relax without feeling guilty for it. Sure, things were still a little awkward between Keith and him, but it wasn’t anything a little distance and hard work couldn’t fix.

Lance had gotten to Keith before. He’d just...have to push a little harder this time around. Work a little smarter.

If the alpha had been willing to scent mark him, had allowed Lance to do the same in return, then there had to be some remaining form of decency between them that at least made it possible for Keith to tolerate his presence for the foreseeable future. Not to mention how the alpha had _promised,_  all skirting glances and guilty half-frowns, that he’d try harder. That he’d stop fighting whatever it was inside him that was trying to garner his attention and just let his new pack _help_.

Keith’s words exactly, by the way. Not his.

And for the most part, it had been working.

Just...not with Lance.

The wariness was thick. The discomfort, even _thicker,_ and Lance was beginning to wonder if there was ever going to be another opportunity for him to break down Keith’s walls like he’d done and get to that point where the alpha didn’t flinch if Lance so much as _looked_ at him.

But a guy could dream, he guessed.

“Lance?”

And sometimes, those dreams come true immediately.

Huh.

Lance flinched hard with a grimace, startled more by the fact he hadn’t heard the approach than the identity of the voice behind it, and peeked out from the safety of his forearms with his brows furrowed in confusion.

Shiro, who was looking down at him with a brow raised in question, had a hesitant hand suspended in the air, as if he had wanted to touch Lance, thought better of it, and chose to call his name instead. And he coughed, awkwardly along his shoulder, before he cleared his throat roughly and let his hand swing back to his side.

He exhaled a soft, “Hey,” hurried to clear his throat when Lance winced at the choppy grate, before repeating himself, “H-Hi,” and flushing pink in the low light. He tries to look at ease under Lance’s scrutiny, but it’s obvious in the set of his shoulders that the alpha has something on his mind.

Something involving _Lance._

So he tries to reassure, or at the very least, get the alpha to stop fiddling about in an obvious display of nerves, but Lance is quick to get caught up in the taller man as a whole when his traitorous gaze wanders downward and fixates. Really rakes Shiro up and down and has him thinking, _oh_.

_Now that’s...odd._

The usually centered tufts of Shiro’s snow-white hair were pinned up and back like Pidge had done some five weeks ago on a nightly whim; styled in a way that exposed the strong cut of the man’s jawline and left the weight of his gaze a heavy burden to Lance’s shoulders as he tried to not to falter beneath its intensity.

Even though he always did.

Lance notices then how Shiro had dressed down. Down into athletic shorts and compression leggings that fit snug around his calves and probably did wonders for his thighs, not that Lance was staring or anything, but there was always a means to ogle. Especially now because workout Shiro?

The alpha must read the question in Lance’s eyes because he immediately blushes, if only slightly, and rocks back on his heels with a bashful huff that plumes white in the chilled air. “I heard you get up,” he explained on a nervous breath. And when Lance didn’t say anything in return, he took a few steps forward until he was side by side with the omega. Shiro nudges him. “Can’t sleep?”

“Is it that obvious?” Lance countered, sheepish in it’s delivery and guilty in his half-smile, because he expects Shiro to point out his obvious disobedience, or at the very least, his _conspiring_ of disobedience. But the alpha merely shrugs.

“You seemed a little wired at dinner. Wasn’t sure if it was because you trained too hard today or if you didn’t train _enough_.”

_Ah._

Lance tried for another smile. Didn’t really put his heart into it, and let the conversation fall flat. Not out of spite, he just...didn’t really know how to handle Shiro when he got like this. The alpha would spend the better part of their filler chit-chat scrambling to get his thoughts in order, until pretty soon, one hour, two, then three had gone by and he was _still_ dancing around the point of the conversation.

So Lance stared; off at the treeline and waited. Allowed Shiro to stare with him in a blanketing silence that stretched beyond the limits of comfortability, and gave the sleepy calls of waking birds all the time they needed to fill the gaping quiet before the alpha had the nerve to speak. “Is it me?” He asks. So soft at first, that Lance almost doesn’t hear him.

But as soon as he does, the words send him lurching; upright and attentive in just a matter of seconds as he squeaked out an incredulous, “W-What?” and felt his heart hammer at his ribcage—it’s such an outrageous question.

But Shiro must not think the same because the man just frowned, directed his scowl at the ground down below them, and shook his head a little. His brows were furrowed, as if the words had lodged in his throat, and he looked the definition of pained as he pressed out a weighted breath and winced. “I know you’re probably mad,” Shiro started heavily. “The other night was...really, it was a shit show after everything I promised you. In hindsight, I should’ve talked to you beforehand, just like I did Hunk and Pidge, before going and planning it all behind your back. I’ve been a lousy excuse of an alpha as of late and I owe it to you—”

“To apologize? Again?” Lance raised a brow and watched a certain guilt cloud Shiro’s widening greys. “I’m not mad at you, Shiro,” Lance finally laments.

Because if he didn’t say it now, then no one else would, and Shiro would continue to drown himself in whatever pool of self-loathing he had constructed in that overworked brain of his. Because what else did the alpha live for?

Sometimes, it was like the man _lived_ to pick himself apart; forever haunted by the slightest mishap whether related to him or not.

Which is why Lance is forced to _insist_ ; crowd close to the wounded alpha and chirp to get those wounded grays to meet his blues. “Look at me, alpha,” Lance ordered, and when Shiro does, Lance takes the opportunity to cup his hands at the man’s cheeks and squish them together.

“I’m _._ Not _._ Mad _._ At _. You_ ,” he articulates; slowly so as to not lose the man between the thickness of his skull, and he’s only truly satisfied when the man gives him a genuine nod in return, _o-okay_ , and fixates down at his lips when Lance feels confident enough to continue. “Really, I’m not. I’ve just been...thinking.”

“Fhinging?” Lance let his hands drop and leaned his hip into the blunt edge of the banister. “Thinking?” Shiro repeated. “About what?”

You.

Himself.

 _Keith_.

Lance averted his gaze, free to linger anywhere _but_ Shiro’s way as he gave the alpha a few minutes to let the admission settle.

Then, “So it’s Keith?”

_Jackpot—Ding, ding, ding!_

Lance flinched hard. Hard enough that the jut of his hip bone knocked rough against the wood and sent him hissing with a weak laugh and an even weaker, “H-huh?” that doesn’t live up to it’s surprise. “What does thinking have to do with Keith?”

Shiro flashed him an unimpressed look, one that Lance knows he deserved because, “Lance,” Shiro said. “Really?”

And, okay. _Maybe_ he’d set himself up for that one. But just because he was thinking didn’t mean Keith was the culprit. He could be pensive if he wanted to. Hunk wasn’t the only one that could muse.

“You know it’s okay if it is, right?” Shiro asked softly. “It’s actually the reason I came out here in the first place.”

Lance blinked, “Oh,” and looked Shiro up and down pointedly. “So, you _didn’t_ come out here to join me on a romantic moonlit run, then?”

“ _You_ were going on a romantic moonlit run?” Shiro gaped; gasped, “Without me,” feigning astonishment nice and well as he screwed his face up in recollection. “I could’ve _sworn_ someone told you _not_ to leave pack territory unless you had a packmate accompany you. Especially in the dark. _Alone_.”

Shiro leaned close, a challenging glint sparking to life in his steely gaze, and Lance tried his best to school his expression into something serious and determined as he held his ground. Managed to refuse breaking eye contact and had the skill to hold his own, even _when_ Shiro made a show of copying his look and let his tongue slip childishly in a mocking way.

Lance felt his belly quiver, eyes watering slightly as his restraint flagged, and the resulting giggle is the first of many as Shiro matched Lance’s humor with his own sound of laughter vibrating deep in his throat and sending Lance into a full fit of hysterics.

“Didn’t think I’d say anything, did you?” Shiro snorted.

Lance just took to grumbling somewhere along the inside of his palm as he sulked, “I thought I had you for a moment,” and sighed. “But alas. I didn’t think the infamous Takashi Shirogane got all dolled up just for the fun of it, so...” Lance fingered at the opening of Shiro’s sweatshirt pointedly and flashed him a knowing look that sent Shiro’s receding pink swooping back tenfold.

He had to clear his throat again, eyes trailing up to the looming stars, and he waited a few moments before meeting Lance’s patient gaze with a hint of longing in his scent.

Had—

Had he made Shiro think about Keith again?

Lance forced a smile as genuine as he could manage and let his own scent overpower that of Shiro’s slip-up as an act of kindness. The alpha doesn’t seem too phased by the change in atmosphere however and, if anything, looks something akin to elated when he reciprocates, all longing purged from the usual pine and overlapped by a pleased undertone that hits strong at Lance’s senses.

It left Shiro grinning.

And Lance can’t help but do so back.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure at,” Lance looked down at his watch, “4:17 in the morning? You know,” he rolled a hand. “ _Besides_ you stalking me?”

Shiro immediately tinged red at that, nudging at Lance’s vulnerable elbow in a last ditch retaliation, as he grumbled, “I wasn’t _stalking_ you,” with a huff of exasperation. “Besides,” he continued. “It’s hardly stalking when we live in the same house.”

Lance made a face, “Say’s you,” and bounced up on the tips of his toes with an impatient breath. “So if you’re not stalking me, what’s up, then? You wanted to talk, right?”

That’s what Shiro had said in the beginning, at least. But now Lance was starting to have his suspicions given the way Shiro pierced at his lower lip; worried the skin between his teeth nervously with his eyes evasive and body even more so once Lance leaned in close in question.

He flounders, “W-Well,” and Lance raises a brow in thinning patience as Shiro flashed a look over Lance’s shoulder and grimaced. “I thought it’d be good if all of us—”

Hold up.

“All of us?”

Lance spun around, ignoring Shiro’s rushed explanation and grabbing hands alike that failed in their efforts to stop him from staring at where Keith had taken up lingering by the back door. _Had_ been lingering, for moon knows how long, while Lance had blabbered away obliviously.

The smaller alpha immediately looked down at his feet, a certain discomfort etched into his handsome features, and Lance couldn’t help his gawk of surprise before he turned on Shiro icily. “You set me up?”

“What?” Shiro lost some color. “ _No._ No, no, no. _This_?” The alpha gestured between the three of them. “ _This_ is purely a precaution. It’s a line of defense, Lance. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t want you getting close to territory lines without someone to see you there and back.”

“So, what? You thought Keith would be the perfect candidate?” Lance pitches his voice low, trying to keep his reluctance between Shiro and him, but he catches Keith’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but wince. Scrambles to backtrack. “Shiro, it’s _late._ You didn’t have to wake him up for this. He needs rest.”

_Technically._

It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. To _see_ those lines, drawn up in tight discomfort at the corner of Lance’s lips, in the squint of his eyes. He’s using his omegan concern to mask his reluctance. To play up his nurturing nature in a way that wouldn’t reveal what was, when it came down to it, a shoddy attempt at getting Keith to beat it.

But the alpha only snorts, “Please,” and takes a step forward when Lance so desperately wanted him to take a step back. Must finally get tired of being talked around because Keith crossed his arms securely over his chest, veins standing out in dark blue rivets that bulged strong beneath his pale skin, flexed with unease, and had him shifting on the balls of his feet subconsciously. “I mean, I don’t. Need anymore rest.” Keith coughed. “Actually makes me want to vomit just thinking about it. Don’t think I can handle being cooped for much longer without...stimulation. Especially not after—”

Keith flushed, and Lance quickly looked away as the unsaid words hung precariously above them; loomed until Lance felt he might combust under the sweltering pressure. It left Shiro to glance between them expectantly, eyes seeking an answer neither of them were willing to provide until the alpha gave up, nodded, _see_ , and swept a hand towards Keith.

“He’s _fine_ , Lance. He wanted to come.”

_Yeah. Sure, he did._

If it isn’t obvious yet, Lance wasn’t buying it. Not when the last thing Keith wanted to do was spend time with _him_. Of his own accord, no less. And Keith must see this disbelief somewhere in Lance’s searching gaze because he purposefully catches his eye and raises a shoulder in a half shrug.

“It’s only if you’re okay with it,” he says idly. Shrinks into himself despite his audience. A shadow of insecurity crosses his expression, there and gone in a matter of seconds but Lance sees it. Hates that it twists something inside him like it does— _dammit._

But that isn’t enough for Keith, oh no. The alpha peeks out from beneath his lashes, puppy eyes in full effect whether the man knows it or not, and he rubs a palm down his forearm shyly. “I know you, _uh._  You probably don’t want to spend any time with me since, y’know, everything that—”

“He does,” Shiro says for Lance. Quite desperately if you asked him, which is why Lance hissed, “ _Shiro_ ,” in frantic reply; tugged desperately at the alpha’s shoulder when he welcomed Keith with an arm open wide. “Can we at least _talk_ about this? In _private_?”

Shiro flashed a tight smile. “There’s nothing we need to talk about in _private,_  Lance. Whatever you need to say, you can say it in front of Keith.”

And _oh._

Lance see’s how it is now. Shiro only ever used that tone of voice when he was plotting. When he needed to get his ducks in a row. The alpha wasn’t just being an ass unconsciously, he was being an ass _schematically._

“Yeah, not happening.” Lance stepped away from Shiro quickly, skirted past Keith’s awkward... _everything_ , and started down the porch stairs on the verge of being angry, but not quite there yet with his cheerful wave. “Thanks for the attempt, big guy, but believe me when I say, now is _not_ the time for a heart to heart. It is _,_ however, time for me to hit the road and forget all about whatever, _this,_ ” Lance circled the two with a quick hand and made a face, “Is _._ So, goodbye now.”

Shiro sputtered somewhere behind him then. An indignant, “ _Lance_ ,” hissing out on a subtle tune of surprise, and with it, a rush of trailing footsteps as the alpha called out to him. “Lance,” Shiro hollered. “Lance, come back here.”

“Not gonna happen,” Lance called back heartily. All he needed was a few more feet and he’d be golden.

Scott free.

“Lance, I’m serious,” Shiro yelled distantly.

And _now_ Lance can hear the edging tone of an order slipping into his words. A hint of command in the alpha’s deep rumble. But the thin layer of _concern_ , _apology,_ of _desperation,_  has him purposeful in his step and stronger in his own voice as he looked back over his shoulder and caught the alpha’s eye.

“You’re gonna have to come get me, alpha.”

And then Lance is _gone_.

No preamble whatsoever, either. Just him, a shiver of energy, and he’s nothing more than a bolt of silver cutting through the trees.

A flurry of curses erupt from behind him, loud enough that they carry over the howl of wind in his flattened ears as he charged forward mindlessly; thrilled he had a head start. He catches something along the lines of, “ ** _Goddammit_** _, Lance!”_ and feels the ripples of energy as Shiro transforms and takes chase without another moment of hesitation.

And Shiro is _irked._

 _Beyond_ agitated.

He’s a writhing ball of charged energy, powerful in his stride and gaining on Lance, if only marginally, as he heaved himself over rocks in the terrain without so much as breaking his stride. He’s exerting himself before he even has a leg up on Lance. A habit he was in need of breaking if the alpha ever wanted to keep up with his omega, and Lance doesn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated…

Until Keith joins the fray.

Lance stumbles; some damn bush catches him across his bad ankle, and he hears Shiro’s taunting huff of a laugh. It settles on Lance with a twinge of nervousness when he realizes the alpha has gained another couple feet on him for it.

Because Lance hadn’t expected _that_.

Keith, right and true, worming his way into Lance’s mind and settling as an advancing predatory presence that his inner omega immediately pin-points and tracks. Keith is overeager; the brilliant red alpha in him a rearing shock of energy that’s just bursting at the seams as he runs in stride with Shiro and looks at the man in newfound wonder.

Keith had _needed_ this.

They all had.

Not that Lance was ready in the least to roll over and give up. If anything, the chase makes Lance go harder; his wolf quickly accepting the new companion now rooted in his mind while making sure to keep Keith’s and Shiro’s open connection muffled should they try and throw off his groove. He needed to focus. He needed to keep the advantage. Having Shiro pursue him was a challenge in its own, but having Keith tag team? The wolf had respectable speed and agility already, wounds be damned. If at any moment Lance underestimated him, he had no doubt he’d end up pinned.

Keith let out a clipped howl behind him, shoulders rippling with strength as the gleam of what little light there was reflected off the shiny auburn of his unique coat. He made quite the target, Lance mused. An easy thing to spot given the environment. So it becomes less of a challenge not _losing_ the man in the brush, and more of a challenge keeping the man a comfortable distance _away_.

Which was proving to be a feat in itself with the way Keith had locked him in his sights because anytime Lance managed a little distance, Keith would be there to herd him at an angle and throw him off by forcing adjustment to the new terrain—the ass.

Still, Lance was smart. He was constantly adapting in ways that Keith didn’t see coming in the way the smaller were would vault up a less than desirable hill, as if it were the tiniest of inclines, and continue on without a gasp to show for it. He could see from this vantage point, that Shiro had been right in his earlier tellings. Lance was lean, sure. But the omega was stark in his own right.

The muscle in Lance’s hind legs worked tirelessly, flexing subtly beneath his shiny, silver fur and snapping loose as he propelled himself through the air and landed effortlessly. Keith wondered if it was the added assistance that being in this form gave, but he’d felt Lance’s body long enough to know the omega packed a punch. His thighs were strong, arms not so much, but he used others strength to his ability.

Like he was doing now.

Keith’s front paw collapsed beneath him as he dove in for a calculated nip. He’d managed a few to Lance’s tail miles back, but the power he puts behind the lunge doesn’t account for Lance’s sudden serpentine dodge that sends Keith ramming into the stump of an oak tree.

_Having a hard time back there, Red?_

Keith shuddered at the airy flow of Lance’s words and dug his nails deep to give himself the momentum he needed to cut their distance in half. If what Shiro had told him was true, then they’d be approaching a dip in the terrain in less than a mile. Just had to keep Lance on track. Keep him close.

 _What makes you say that?_ Keith smirked as best he could in this form. _I’m having a great time._

Lance’s ears perked up ahead, blue eyes gleaming over a shoulder in quick succession as Keith got ten steps behind him.

Nine.

Because there was something about having an alpha take chase. _Eagerly_ take chase, and hunt him down as if he were the most challenging of game and symbolizing a certain pride that could be shown off should he be caught. And Keith could easily catch him. Lance mind flooded with half-visions half-memories: teeth snug in the scruff of his neck, belly laid flat in the dirt as the alpha heaved heavily above him and bit.

Eight.

Dammit.

Lance isn’t sure if Keith catches any of that, but he’s also doubtful that the man _didn’t_ catch any of it. Because the alpha in him gets squirrely. Gets erratic. It snarls at him to _go. Go. We can’t let him get away._ And that just makes it ten times harder for Lance.

Five.

Keith is hot on his heels. He’s within biting distance, and Lance purposefully lags in his step to reel the alpha in before sprinting out of reach once more. Lance did this often with Shiro. Just to relieve the man of a natural urge, except Lance isn’t looking to let Keith pounce on him. He’s looking to wear him out.

 _You sure you’re okay?_ Lance chirped. _Cuz your energy is saying otherwise, Buddy. Should probably just give up._

Seven.

Keith felt his joints burning, the rush of adrenaline no longer highlighting the rapid stretch of taut muscle; of scar tissue being overworked. He has no doubt he’ll be feeling it come this afternoon but—

 _That’s not something I can do, Lance._ Keith grins. _Sorry._

Six.

 _Are you?_ Lance questions. Wonders, all teasing aside, if Keith had really meant it back on the porch. Back when Lance had told him not to worry about it, had given him a shitty excuse of an apology of his own, when both of them needed so much more. They were just too scared to make the leap. Worried it wouldn’t come out right.

But look what happened anyway?

Four.

Keith whined, _Lance._

And Lance immediately shook his head out, severed the connection and pushed on like nothing but getting away mattered.

Six.

He didn’t need another half-assed apology. Lance just wanted to give Keith the necessary time to get over it. To act like it never happened and move on with everything. They didn’t need to—

Seven.

They didn’t need to—

_Fuck!_

Fuck?

Zero.

Lance turned a little, startled by the heavy projection of Shiro’s thoughts, and finally, _finally,_ realized the alpha hadn’t been behind him for a good six miles. Had been off on his own this entire time now, waiting for Lance to cross the ravine. The same slope that Lance had been using to speed up his momentum frighteningly fast, and had him in a dead sprint between the only opening between the trees.

That or the thorn bushes.

So, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when Shiro is suddenly there. Just _standing there_ —the idiot.

And Lance slams right into him.

Point blank.

Blunt bones and poorly contained claws snag Lance low in his underbelly, chest catching chest as he slid flat against the alpha and went toppling up in the air a good couple of feet before crashing down in the scattering of wet flora below him.

Lance wheezed, already shuddering back into something pained and human so he could gasp and heave freely without the uncomfortable bulk of his body pinned between the awkward placement of trees when he fell.

“...anc..”

His lungs stutter horribly, air knocked from them, and he can’t catch his breath. His fingers twitch in the dirt below him as he stared at what little stars he could see through the stamped shadows of pine needles.

“...ance..”

A crow laughs at him from above, its brother joining him low in the trees, and for a moment it is pretty funny.

At least he’d die happy.

“Lance, you’re not dying.”

_Keith?_

“Yeah. Yeah, Lance. It’s Keith. Just breathe for me, okay? Just breathe, Lance.”

It takes him a minute, but Keith eventually gets an arm up and under Lances upper back, fingers linked loosely in Lance’s own, as the omega fights a ragged cough and struggled into a hunched sitting position.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. “Lance, you gotta tell me if you’re hurt somewhere. Something snapped.”

Oh.

Lance took a few lungfuls of air in, and out, in, and out; let’s Keith direct him in doing so with a trembling hand to his sternum clutched warm between Lance’s dirt caked fingers. He wiggles his toes, let Keith press practiced fingers into his legs and hips, working gently up his sides before cradling his head and feeling for any soft spots.

“Nothing?”

Lance blinked. “Not really.” And even if there was something to be worried about, he’d be quick to heal anyway. From the looks of it he was fine. He _felt_ fine considering he was stopped by a goddamn brick _wall_ of an alpha who—who—

Shit.

“ _Takashi_ ,” Lance gasped, struggling in Keith’s fitful arms telling him he needed to stay put. But the name triggers a weak groan from somewhere in the trees and Keith can only do so much before Lance was on his feet, limping desperately towards the sound.

“Shiro!?” Lance cried. “Shiro, where—”

“I’m right here,” is the pained reply.

Lance whipped around and, true to his word, the alpha came staggering out from the darkness, arm cradled to his chest, and looking more than a little guilty as he flashed a weak smile and leaned against a tree. “I’m fine,” he added quickly. “We really have to stop running into each other like this.”

Relief flooded his system, and Lance felt his lip quiver, eyes stinging far too quickly to stop it, before he was crossing the space between the alpha and him and smacking the man along the back of his head.

“You _idiot_!” He screeched. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was! It’s bad enough we have one alpha out of commission, what are we going to do if we’re down two! I shouldn’t even have to tell you this, Takashi! What the hell were you thinking!?”

Shiro stared down at Lance wide eyed; directed those wide eyes Keith’s way who looked equally, if not _more_ , petrified, and shook his head; _you’re on your own with this one, man._

So Shiro tried for another half smile. “I was thinking I needed to get my feisty omega before he went off and hurt hims—ow! Lance!”

“Shut up,” Lance ordered. “And sit down before you make it worse. We need to stabilize your arm and set your shoulder before it heals wrong.”

“Hey,” Shiro chided lightly. “I told you to come back.”

Lance worked his jacket up over his head, all anger shivering out of him as he did so, before kneeling down in the dirt and reaching for Shiro’s arm. “I also told you I didn’t want to talk. See the domino effect, alpha?” Lance held his balled up jacket to Shiro’s mouth. “Now bite.”

Keith kneeled down opposite to Lance, hand out and ready for Shiro to take as he bit gently into the cloth and nodded his head, _whenever you’re ready_.

It’s quick.

Lance pushes, _rolls_ , then pulls until there’s a grind and an audible _pop_ as the bone set into place. The skin is already bruising, yellow in some areas and fading faster than any other being as Shiro’s body rapidly soothed the wounded tissue and ruptured veins. And Shiro only flinched, hand flexing in Keith’s own, but otherwise, he remained motionless, watching off into the distance as Lance took his jacket back and began tying it in a sorry excuse of a sling.

“Thank you,” Shiro murmured.

Lance just made a face and continued on. “You have some really terrible ideas, Shiro.”

“Doesn’t he?” Keith spoke up. He looked at Lance carefully, his body more at ease as he shifted closer and gestured Shiro’s way. “I told him coffee and brunch would do just fine, but he insisted we go about it this way instead.”

Shiro huffed, “In my defense,” holding up a weak finger in argument, “It would’ve worked.”

“Yeah, _would’ve,_ ” Lance tutted. “Had you not come onto me like some desperate blind date. I ran in self preservation, Shiro.”

Keith laughed at that, smile directed down at the dirt, but it gets Lance grinning nonetheless as Shiro grunted his annoyance and sulked.

“Sorry I wanted to apologize sooner rather than later. Unlike Keith, here,” he gestured, then grimached at the pain the motion caused his bad shoulder.

Lance just raised a brow in surprise, unimpressed. “So coffee and brunch was really your idea, then?” He asked. Not because he didn’t believe Keith, he just, didn’t expect that from the man. Which is why when the alpha nodded, shy in his tilt, Lance hummed a gentle, “ _Huh_ ,” and made a face. “I would have pegged you as more of the rugged sort. Y’know,” Lance wagged his brows. “The kind to take a gal to a _bar_.”

Keith winced distastefully, like he’d bitten into something sour, and blinked in cautious confusion. “ _You_ wanted me, to take you to a bar, to apologize?”

“ _You_ were going to apologize?” Lance asked, with an equally puckered look.

He can see the way the corner of Keith’s lips twitch, up into what could be a smile before it smoothed into something flat and balanced again.

 _Almost_ , _Lance, almost._

_Don’t lose your momentum._

“So,” Lance said flippantly, working hard at his own advice. “ _If_ this fictional Keith had taken me out to coffee,”

“Andbrunch,” Keith interjected with a dutiful nod. “Don’t forget brunch.”

And Lance forced himself to suppress yet _another_ smile as he quickly corrected himself. “And brunch.” To which a satisfied Keith hummed, _there you go_ , before inclining his head patiently. “What would this Keith have said?”

“Ah.” The alpha rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Now that is a great question.”

Shiro chuckled a little at the spectacle the two had made, fond amusement laced deep in the sound as he watched them interact.

And for as good as they were at getting on each other’s nerves—how easy it was for one to tear the other down—it was the second time they’d managed to fall back into old habits. Reconnect in a matter of seconds.

Keith and Lance were opposites, but the attraction was evident. It was inevitable.

Lance tried to busy himself best he could with Shiro, whispering a faint apology here and there as he tightened the arms of his jacket and braced the man’s shoulder tightly. It’s in no way perfect, but he’s halfway through the mess of medical treatment when Keith finally lifts his head, “I got it.” Watched as Lance sat back and admired his handiwork just to seem occupied.

Even though he’s listening.

And intently at that.

“He would say he’s sorry, to start,” the alpha began quietly. He keeps his violet eyes fixated on his knees, hands fisted atop in a loose grip that seemed more like a means for grounding than his usual need for distraction. Lance eyed the hold in turn, traces the open lines of Keith’s exposed skin, all the way up his chest until he could see the clench of the alpha’s jaw, the furrow of his brows. His concentration is noteworthy. Flattering in a sense.

It catches his omega's attention immediately.

_Go on._

And Keith does. “The way he talked to you that night was—it was out of defensiveness, but that’s no excuse when he _wanted_ to hurt you. He wanted you to feel bad. And deep down, he knew what he was doing, he just didn’t want to admit it.” Keith glanced at Shiro. _Looked_ at Lance and said his name like it _hurt_. Like it stung. “Making you submit like that was—it _felt_ horrible, Lance. I put you through something I had to suffer through and endure when I was attacked and that was—so _fucking_ _wrong_. My apology after, was wrong. And I let you walk away, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. And now I—I—”

“We have to make things right, Lance.”

Shiro grunted as he pushed himself up along the base of the tree. He wants to cross his legs, sit properly instead of slouching, but it takes the combined help of Keith and Lance both to give the man the support he needs so he can regard Lance appropriately.

“I’ve left this alone for too long, Lance. And it feels like everyday there’s something more I need to apologize to you for after everything that I’ve let happen. I promised you stability. I promised to keep you safe. And I’ve broken those promises. _Multiple_ times. Your comfortability should’ve taken priority, _not_ Keith’s integration into the pack. I was impatient, I rushed things, and in the end, _you_ got hurt.”

Keith winced, and Shiro had the mind to place a steady hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

“ _Both_ of you got hurt,” he reiterated. “Things happened between you two that I can’t even begin to decipher, let alone solve. But I’m here with you two, right now, to tell you that I’m sorry, and that I want to fix things. I want my alpha back. I want my _omega_ back.” Shiro shuffled closer to Lance, grunting a bit as he did so, but his eyes are void of pain and full of sincerity as he reached out and took Lance’s hand in his.

“I’m not asking you to forgive us if you can’t do so right now, Lance. If anything, knowing that you understand we’re going to do better is good enough for me.” The alpha sucked in a breath, squeezed at his fingers; whispered, “And if you feel Keith deserves to be punished for what he did, then I understand, just as Keith does. And I _promise_ you, Lance. Your needs will be met this time.”

_I’m not going to let you down again. Never again._

Lance looked over at Keith. Because when it came down to it, _he_ was the one whose apology mattered most in this situation. And compared to the one he’d been given after their shit-show of a bonding, this one felt...real. Fine tuned. Keith and him had both felt the receding effects the heat of the moment had left and they’d been in desperate need of a simple band aid, one that they could slap on and pretend as if the gaping wound was merely a passing scratch.

The effort between them was minimal, their apologies, even more so. And Lance was willing to admit he’d fucked up on his part as well. Maybe not as royally  as his alpha’s had done, but fucked up nonetheless.

Which is why—

“I don’t want you to punish, Keith.” Lance watched the alpha’s head snap up, violet eyes bright with shock, and Lance felt any and all resentment leave on a tired exhale that had his shoulders sagging. “I think it’s fair to say Keith’s been punished enough as is,” he pointed out, “And it wouldn’t be right considering I was the one to start the argument in the first place. Keith just finished it.”

“I hurt you, Lance,” Keith said tightly.

And Lance nodded, “I know,” because the bruises were there to remind him. “But I hurt you too. I— _said_ things trying to achieve that. It just didn’t hit you physically.”

Keith nodded, carefully and minute, and Lance pressed his lips together with a look of sympathy as the alpha fisted his hands upon his knees again and flushed.

Did that make them even?

Were they good now?

“I still don’t feel right about all this,” Keith grumbled. He looked to Shiro seeking a similar agreement, found it in the alpha’s paired grunt, and frowned. “It’s like it was too easy.”

“Making you guys chase me for six miles just to end up with a dislocated shoulder and scuffed up palms was too easy?” Lance pitched incredulously.

Shiro hummed. “Compared to what Keith and I have done, a dislocated shoulder is being generous.”

“Way too generous,” Keith said. “And I didn’t even get hurt.”

“Are you two—” Lance smacked a hand to his forehead and cursed low under his breath. “You alpha’s are insufferable, I swear.”

Shiro flashed a grin, Keith tried for one of his own that didn’t quite come out the way the man might have hoped, and Lance stared between the two of them contemplating his next move.

“Alright, fine. You two really want to make it up to me?” Lance watched them nod and couldn’t help the flip of his stomach at the implication. They could always say no, though Shiro was never one to turn down such a request, but Keith...Keith might be a little apprehensive about it.

“Lance, just tell us,” Keith breathed, voice shaky from the suspense.

And Lance chose to worry his lip, just a second more, before blurting, “Can I scent mark you two?”

Which, okay. It was important to know that even though scent marking was common within packs, there was a certain strategy to it. There were rules, even if those rules were flexible. Omegas rarely scent marked alpha’s as heavily as alpha’s did omegas outside of pack bonding. Part of it was the natural reluctance of submission on the alpha’s part, and other times it was a matter of an alpha’s scent overpowering that of an omegas long before their own scent disappeared from their pack mates. Unless mated, it was usually a pointless effort. Not to mention how omegas got more joy out of it than alpha’s did themselves, but the point was it was rarely common in sporadic situations. A sort of oddity amongst were’s.

So while Lance waited to be gently denied, told they could scent him in return if he wanted or save the thought for a later bonding, Keith catches him off guard with an almost…eager look.

Maybe because he is?

“What,” Keith licked his lips. “What does that mean? Like, what we did the other night? Can we even do that again?”

Shiro smiles at Keith’s immediate interest and nodded, “We can. Lance would just be the one leading it as opposed to you or I.” Shiro looked at him. “Is that really all you want, though?”

Lance could already feel his inner companion shifting by the minute; taunted by the idea many times before but only getting a slight taste back when Shiro had apologized to him. The opportunity of both his alpha’s, however, was a feat probably unheard of.

_We would be the first!_

His inner omega yips, and from it, Lance produces a slight whine of longing because yeah. This was really all he wanted.

And Shiro must finally see that because he hummed, “Okay,” and immediately began rolling the sleeve up his uninjured arm.

Keith watched with surprising concentration, following suit a little more hastily than Lance would have ever predicted, and he shifts a bit on his haunches as Shiro sat back against the tree and made a show of exposing his throat.

“Please, omega,” Shiro asks roughly.

And that alone is just— _oh._

Lance can’t suppress the shiver that brings, the thrill of power that watching an alpha submit could bring. He doesn’t feed off of it the same way they did. Wasn’t driven by a focal need to have it in frequent doses, but he can’t deny the innate rush of endorphins that sedate his eager companion as Shiro watches him imploringly. Chirps deep in his throat in requested invitation when Lance hesitates while drawing near.

His hands soothe at Shiro’s shoulders, grip impossibly gentle so not to jostle the practically healed joint too much, and he uses the leverage to fit himself between Shiro’s parted thighs. To take in the alpha’s scent slowly and revel in the man’s warmth surrounding him from all directions. Lance can feel where Shiro’s pulse throbs beneath his fingertips, the steady thrum jolting at the ease of his palms, and when he looks up, Shiro’s eyes are watching him intensely.

A warm hand finds purchase low at Lance’s spine—little too low if you asked him, but he wasn’t about to complain—and it pressures him forward, drags his eyes down at the faint outline of a scent gland and sets his mouth watering.

Lance pressed close, nuzzling just under Shiro’s jawline and nosing his way along the exposed skin. The crisp waft of pine is strongest where the man’s gland is, but there are subtle pieces of all of them in there. Hidden under its strength but marking him as their own nonetheless. Lance had tried valiantly to get as much of himself on Shiro the few nights prior, but his mind had been weighed down in the rush of exertion; the absence of adrenaline that left him dazed and confused. He could hardly smell himself along the most important parts of Shiro’s body, the parts that lingered, if only for a few days, so he quickly set to work running his wrists up the man’s arms.

He honed in on Shiro’s wrists, lathered his scent into the vulnerable pulse points as gently as he could before roving up and over the planes of his heaving chest, circling at the ridges of his collarbone, and back down again to make sure he was being thorough enough.

Shiro tilted his head back a little further, throat working enticingly, and Lance finally took the offer to press into Shiro and lap gently at his scent gland.

Heat pooled in his gut. A fire licking up into his chest cavity and smoking out his racing heart as he nipped at the soft skin and felt Shiro jerk beneath him. Lance tongued the reddening flesh, sucking at the color happily, and sank into the overflow of pheromones that flooded his senses. This was the longest anyone had let him do this, let alone an alpha. And he tries his best to keep it short and sweet, but can’t help feeling encouraged by the twitch of Shiro’s fingers pressing him even closer.

He nipped, coaxing blood to such a thin surface, and Lance felt Shiro jerk one more time before a hand was gently pushing him away.

“W-wait,” Shiro panted, like a much needed rush of cold water.

Lance feels like he’s been hauled up to the surface and he blinks the blissful haze from his eyes as concern, sharp and jarring, sank its hooks into him. Had he bitten too deep? Was it too much?

“I’m sorry,” Lance blurted. “I didn’t—”

“Do anything,” Shiro assured gently. “I just—need a moment.”

Lance raised a brow in question, took a careful look at Shiro's own uncomfortable expression, and realized quite quickly that he might want to give the alpha some space.

Flushed and frantically apologetic, Lance scooted back a ways to allow Shiro to adjust himself accordingly and raise a knee up to preserve some decency.

Natural reaction.

Wouldn’t be the first time, or the last.

And with Keith watching so heavily, it was practically inevitable.

“We can stop, then,” Lance said easily. “I feel content now. Less...unsatisfied.”

Shiro smiled back, still looking a little pained, and nodded gratefully with a few careful breaths. He definitely smelled like Lance now.

But Shiro wasn’t sure if that was a good thing at the moment.

“Did—” Keith swallowed thickly, pupils blown with every flare of his nostrils, and Lance locked into his heady gaze with a pinched inhale of his own as he scented the excitement. “Does it hurt?” Keith finally managed.

And Lance jumped when Shiro laughed, grey eyes a tad darker in the light as he shook his head, “No,” gave Keith a small smile. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s just...different.”

“Different how?”

Lance could feel the nerves return with Keith’s passing hesitation. He still wouldn’t do anything they didn’t want, but he desperately hoped Keith would give him a shot.

Because though, technically, they weren’t really doing anything they hadn’t already done before, Lance had still been out of it. Worn from the stress of the alpha command and floating in a post-bond haze just as Keith had been when they were finally deposited in the nest. They’d been aware enough to understand what was happening, but there was a big difference when the adrenaline of a group bond was absent. He didn’t want this going sideways if Keith didn’t feel comfortable.

Which is why he hesitates, “You don’t...you don’t _have_ to.”

But Keith doesn’t waver the slightest before pulling him in and huffing, “Do it.” Adds a shy, “Please,” at the end that’s borderline begging to Lance’s ears as the alpha pulled the heft of his sweatshirt down a ways, carefully exposing his good shoulder, and tilted his head to the side, just as Shiro had done, to give Lance the access he needed.

So he starts with the throat.

Lance always started with the throat. And it's an incredibly odd experience _feeling_ the power behind Keith’s heartbeat as Lance dove straight for his jugular and thought back to when the steady thrum had slowed to a nonexistent lull. Here, though. Keith felt strong beneath his hands. Healthy in ways he hadn’t been when Lance first laid eyes on the alpha.

He was a walking miracle.

One that sent a piercing thrill through Lance’s chest as he marveled the result of his tireless work.

Keith’s breathing picked up below him, his chest brushing firm against Lance’s own as he practically crawled into the alpha’s lap to get better access. And like Shiro, Lance runs his palms up along the man’s rib cage, over the prominent divot of his collarbone, and gentles his wrists deep into the alpha’s scent glands without disrupting the bandaged flesh. Keith grunts low in his throat at the feel, and Lance replies with his own conversative chirp as he lets his scent mingle with Keith’s own. Doing what he hadn’t been able to during the chaos of the moment and smothered by Shiro when Keith and him _did_ eventually touch.

Lance was lucky the alpha still smelled like him, if only barely. Not nearly enough for Lance to be satisfied, but that was something that could be fixed immediately.

Lance pressed another chirp to Keith’s throat, retreating slightly when the alpha cracked an eye open, and he quickly bared his neck in turn, asking for the alpha to reciprocate.

He chirped again.

_Please?_

Keith blinked suddenly, the haze of ecstasy slowly receding, but Lance could see the immediate dilation of his pupils, the inky drip of his iris as his jaw worked and his fingers flexed at Lance’s hips. He glanced over at Shiro, a silent request for permission in his eyes, and the larger alpha nodded slowly, _be gentle,_ before Keith surged up and pulled Lance down against him.

The alpha nosed at his throat, running on pure instinct at this point and utilizing what little he’d picked up watching his packmates scent one another. But the urge is alien and primal. Burning deep in his gut as he mouthed at Lance’s scent gland and gave a tentative nip to the flesh. He felt the omega shudder in his arms, hands sneaking up to curl in the length of Keith’s hair, and he tossed his head back further with a throaty purr that felt thick against Keith’s tongue. Vibrated against the line of his body in a way that was so enchanting, he didn’t think he could live without it at this point.

And Lance is—

 _Beautiful,_ Shiro thinks, watching them both. _Perfect_.

Lance shook again, so violent that Keith cracked an eye open in concern, only to find Shiro closer than he’d been moments prior. The other alpha eyed him steadily, watched as Keith dragged his teeth down Lance’s throat slowly before soothing him with another run of his wrists; practically dousing the omega in his scent like he should’ve done nights ago.

Shiro nods with a grunt of approval, _just like that_ , and Keith feels his lips curl as the warmth of it shot straight to his already molten gut.

Lance’s purring increased in octave, his body leaning heavily into Keith’s own as he was marked and claimed in a way that was lesser than an actual mating bond, but still sufficient enough to settle his instincts. Every now and then he’d have the mind to nibble Keith back, chirp his comfort, and try to keep the whole event calm.

Because Keith had done his part laying claim to his omega, and Shiro was about to do the same as he nuzzled at Lance’s shoulder and fit himself against the omega’s back perfectly.

He rumbled, smiled at Lance’s responding chirp, and bit down on the untouched scent gland with renewed vigor; sank his teeth deep enough to bruise and mark, but not deep enough to bind. Shiro had been tempted on many occasions, to sink those final millimeters and lay claim to something he’d wanted for some time, but the open look of bliss on Lance’s face; the adoration and respect that pooled in the omega’s piercing blues was always enough to reign Shiro in.

Just as it was doing now.

Keith, on the other hand, felt a spark of challenge. A fit of frustration and anger as he watched Shiro suck the flushed skin between his teeth, eyes closed to feel the strike in their connection, and _pull_ on it. It had Lance gasping, and Keith could’ve sworn he felt a similar sensation blooming low on his throat, but the thought quickly stored itself when Shiro opened his eyes to watch him. Holds the contact and makes a show of trailing his tongue gently against Lance’s throat before biting again.

A growl punches from Keith’s chest, something deep and guttural. Lance doesn’t seem to register it at first, but when the heat of the snarl hits hot at his throat, he’s suddenly aware of Keith; namely the not so gentle curl of his fingers digging deep into his skin. He whines quietly, squirming under the hold of Keith’s bite, and is hit with the choking smell of smoke.

“Keith,” Shiro growled.

Keith dug his teeth in deeper, and Lance sagged against him with another whine, this one louder, as the bite drew up a mind-numbing excitement. His omega rolled, panted, cried out; ecstatic at the feel. But Shiro cut through the feeling quick when he pulled at Lance, snarled low enough to rock Keith to his core, and bared his teeth in challenge when the other alpha hesitated to let him go. Keith flexed his jaw for another second, debating his options, before releasing his hold and letting Lance fall back into Shiro with a moan.

“Lance?” Shiro nuzzled at the omegas cheek with a soft whine, noticing how Keith had somehow still refrained from breaking skin—thank moon. And Lance looks more than satisfied in his arms, blue eyes almost distant as he purred his content softly.

“Is he okay?”

Shiro looked at Keith and found no trace of his earlier posturing in sight. The tension had eased, his eyes now focused, and Shiro released a sigh of relief before looking down at Lance fondly.

“He’s fine. He’s just a little out of it right now. Dopamine overload, huh, Lance?”

Lance curled into Shiro and nodded loosely with a sigh. “M’great. Grade A work, guys. Ten out of ten, would scent again. Just like that.”

Keith’s shoulders dropped, eyes hopeful, and Shiro offered a warm smile as he shifted Lance’s weight in his now fully functioning arms. “C’mon, then,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you up.”

“Nu-uh,” Lance waved. “Just go on without me. M’gonna lay here for a bit. Get some feeling back in my legs. You know the routine.”

Keith clucked his tongue and smirked. “Where’s all that stamina you’re always bragging about? You’re tired already?”

“Oh, and you’re not?” Lance quipped back.

And, for Keith and Shiro, apparently not. The two come into a second wind of energy that must skip Lance’s station because he’s entirely too weak to stand on his own. Well, not without stumbling, at least. And Shiro tries to look apologetic, but Keith seems entirely too cocky for his own good as he spotted Lance while he struggled upright and made sure he didn’t fall.

“Okay, this is just—” Keith unhooked Lance’s arm from around his shoulder and steadied him impatiently before crouching down in front of the omega. Shiro had raised a brow, slow to catch on, but Lance gets the idea immediately and scrunches his nose.

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Keith. I can walk perfectly fine, thank you very—”

“Would you just shut up and let me help you, Lance?” Keith snarled.

Lance looked to Shiro, helpless in his expression, but Shiro—the traitor—simply raised a shoulder and started walking a few paces ahead. He needed to get a start on breakfast before Hunk felt entitled to.

Which left Lance to Keith, who had yet to stand up and take back his offer, and he continued to make an impatient grunting noise low in his throat the longer Lance stayed planted.

“You know you don’t have to,” Lance attempted one final time.

But Keith just huffed. “You don’t think I know that?” and muttered something too quiet for Lance to catch.

“I’m heavy,” he warned.

But Keith just rolled his eyes. “Trust me, you’re not.”

Lance isn’t sure what the alpha means by that. Isn’t really sure if he should feel offended. So he bites his lip in contemplation and weighs his options.

His legs felt pretty sturdy after all this time they spent arguing, but the thought of Keith’s look of disappointment was enough to convince him. So he sighed, ready and willing to lose a battle just this once, and walked forward until Keith could hook his arms around his knees.

The alpha grunted, hefting Lance up and onto his back effortlessly, and he trotted hastily to catch up with Shiro.

“Am I hurting you?” Lance asked quietly. He tried to keep his grip as loose as it could be at Keith’s shoulders, but he still worried. Stared at the fresh bandages in concern.

“Don’t,” Keith called. “Really, I’m fine. I’m not gonna break.” And when Lance said nothing else, he added, “Shiro was right, by the way. You’re definitely underweight.”

_This ass._

Lance sputtered, “Excuse you,” and dug the heels of his feet into Keith’s hip bones. “I’m _lean_ , you mullet-haired, _freak_! There’s a difference!”

A bark of laughter erupted up ahead and Lance called to the alpha with a glare. “Stop spreading rumours you asshat, this isn’t high school!”

“Tell that to Hunk!” Shiro called over a shoulder.

Lance hid his face in the safety of Keith’s broad shoulders, a pout pressed to the top of his vertebrae respectfully. He should’ve made them do his chores for a month as an apology. Or better yet, make him untouchable when it came to insults, _apparently._

Shiro laughed again, and Lance resigned himself to ignoring them as he stared off into the trees. Traced the wide trunks and tracked the quick movement of squirrels above as they scurried from branch to branch.

Keith’s saying something about deja-vu, Shiro chiming in heartily to comment on their past adventures in tandem, and Lance could swear he sees a unique flash of movement; a pair of glowing eyes staring right back at him from just a few yards away.

“Hey,” he calls, not sure why he feels inclined to when he can’t be sure. And when Keith looks back at him, Shiro stopping in tow with a brow raised patiently, he quickly shakes his head with a sheepish, “Never mind,” and settles back against Keith.

“Thought I saw a deer.”

 

* * *

  


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Friday finds Shiro between an intense early morning workout and a long, much needed, shower with the dial pointing straight at the capital ‘C’ punched in the metal lining. His skin breaks out in goosebumps, his body clearly disappointed with this morning’s choice of wake-up call, but the shock to his system is one that Shiro so desperately needs with the sluggish manner of his synapses.

Because he’s lagging.

And terribly so.

The air beyond the curtains is cold, if not _colder_ , than the frigid water still casting rivets down the planes of his chest and lower back, and Shiro greets the next bout of icy tremors with a grateful sigh as he reached for his towel and carefully dried himself at a calculated pace.

His skin flushes pink, overjoyed to have some semblance of feeling rubbed back under his ministrations, and by the time he’s wrapped a towel around his waist, another scrubbing furiously through his dripping hair, the rest of the house has begun to stir.

Shiro knows Pidge doesn’t have class this Friday, but he checks the calendar anyway just to be sure. Checks on the teen for a very similar reason before venturing his way downstairs in search of coffee. Because if the freezing water wasn’t enough to do the trick, then the darker than dark blend of whatever brew Hunk had picked up last week at the market would have him wired for the next few _years_.

Just how he liked it.

Hunk—speak of the were—takes that exact moment to wander into the dining room, a hand scratching low at his bare belly and down under the waistband of his sweats. His hair's a mess too, sticking up in wild disarray as if the strands had a mind of their own and were reaching towards the moon. The beta grunts his acknowledgment, hand—the one not currently scratching at his balls—coming up to clap Shiro on the shoulder, and Shiro returns the greeting with a grunt of his own and a grave, “Coffee?” that has Hunk nodding through a yawn.

“Crepes?” Hunk countered, head already buried in the fridge, and Shiro offered a lazy thumbs up that the beta must catch because he mumbles, “On it,” and starts filling a stirring bowl with eggs, butter, milk—

Shiro leaves Hunk to it, set on seeing the coffee through and blinking around the rising glare of the sun trickling through the kitchen windows. He drapes the towel in his hand around his neck while he fills Hunk’s cup, adds a few packets of sugar and a splash of vanilla creamer before fulfilling his half of this mornings bargain, and Hunk shows his gratitude with a less sleep addled smile before setting to work.

The coffee burns bitter and scalding against Shiro’s palate, searing a path down his throat and burning a hole in chest when he coughs. It’s a contrast worthy of admiration, the way in which Shiro has adapted to both extremes of the temperature spectrum. And pretty soon, he was sure Lance would have something to say about the risk to his health.

Which reminded him.

“Is Lance awake?” Shiro directed his question upwards, towards the ceiling that would creak and share the privacy of those walking about above them. He’d thought he’d heard the toilet flush earlier, but he’d assumed it was Hunk.

Hunk, who looked up from whisking with a brow raised, “Huh?” before his face lit up in realization. “Oh, Lance?” He parotted back. “Yeah, he’s up. Guess Nadia called in sick this morning so she asked him to cover her shift.”

Shiro frowned. “Aren’t Fridays his longest days?”

Hunk nodded, knocked his whisk clean and flipped the stove on. “And his busiest. Which is why I told him to drop the Saturday overtime this weekend. Figured he could make up lost energy that way and be ready for Sunday.” Hunk dropped a square of butter into the small pan and looked to Shiro for any lingering input.

Not that Shiro had any.

Hunk had told Lance exactly what Shiro would have told him. It was one thing finishing Lance’s usual chaotic work week, it was another piling on another shift and that of overtime in less than twenty-four hours. Not to mention how hectic the E.R got during the weekend.

Lance would be a dead man walking by the time Sunday rolled around. Shiro did his best to set his worries aside. He’d be fine. Shiro would be sure of it.

“Thank you for handling that,” Shiro said against the rim of his mug. “He’d try to take Sunday too if we didn’t monitor him.”

Hunk laughed and shook his head at thought. “Yeah,” and rolled the pan around with a gentle motion of his wrist. “What about you, though? Taking the day off?” He asked with a curious smile.

Shiro did his best to play dumb, listening for the soft creak of the floorboards above before leaning back against the counter and letting the smile slip. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “Figured I’d run some errands, check out a few stores.” Shiro took cover behind his mug again. “Browse some jewelry.”

Keeping timid is quite the challenge, even more so when Hunk drops the pan with a sharp _clatter_. And when Shiro finally looked up, ready to face the music, the look in the beta’s eyes is that of ecstatic disbelief.

“No,” Hunk breathes. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not, what?” Shiro smiled.

And Hunk looked damn near ready to pass out. “I can’t believe this,” he gasped. “Since _when_ , man? It’s been _months_.”

Shiro groaned, “ _Ugh_ , don’t remind me,” and crossed his ankles. He eyed the floor at his feet, knowing all too well that Lance just might ask him the same thing when the time came. But while Shiro had always wanted to court the omega, in actuality things were way more complicated, and the idea had become a long-term dream. The alpha had never wanted to overstep his boundaries or make Lance uncomfortable in any way. It was even more complicated when Shiro and everyone else knew just how _much_ Lance wanted it. There was always a doubt in the back of Shiro’s head that he would be taking advantage of Lance and his inner omega, or using his authority to sway Lance’s true feelings. So it’d taken an unreasonably long amount of time before Shiro felt confident in Lance’s interest in him; that he wasn’t just making things out to be stuff that it wasn’t.

Hunk and Pidge had told him on more than one occasion, just how much Lance had crushed on him during high school. How the omega was just as smitten as he was back then, he just knew how to carry it better now that he was older. And Shiro had been eager to act on it. Was _still_ that eager.

But life. Work. _Keith_.

“There was just never a good time,” Shiro said easily. Meant it when he looked at Hunk with a soft shadow of longing in his gaze. “I’ve wanted to, for so long, believe me. I just—I wanted it to be special. I _want_ it to be special, y’know?” Shiro set his cup down and took a step towards Hunk. He didn’t imagine he’d being doing this with nothing but a towel and sweatpants between them, the house smelling of melted butter, but Shiro knew this time was as good as any for how long Lance had waited. For how long his pack had waited for the idiot to realize his infatuation with the omega. Which is why—

“I wanted to thank you, Hunk,” Shiro said. “For helping with everything. For getting me to this point. I'm not sure how much longer I would’ve waited trying to sort myself out had you not come to me. So I wanted to ask you, with your permission of course, if you would allow me the honor of courting our pack omega.” Shiro kept his head bowed, eyes at his feet and back curved forward slightly in a gesture of respect. He needed to get this right the first time, starting with the people Lance cared about the most, before he would have a shot at the omega himself.

Failure was not an option anymore.

“You know, a while back I was going to turn you down.”

Looks like failure was still an option, then.

Shiro looked up at Hunk’s silent request, grey eyes sparking with apprehension, but the beta just grabbed at his shoulder again and smiled.

“I _was_ going to say no,” he explains. “I just didn’t think the positives were going to last, to be honest. But you’re good for him, man. And he’s good for you. I can’t speak for Lance, but, he’s been waiting a long time for you, Shiro. A long time.” Hunk squeezes gently, his smile turning a little sad as he gave Shiro a hard once over. “Just—don’t hurt him anymore, okay? Take the chance to start new. Build something wonderful.”

“I don’t plan on doing anything less, Hunk,” Shiro reassured. “Not anymore.”

And that must be enough for the beta because Hunk beams, teeth blinding as he laughed, punched a fist through the air with an excited grunt before he high fived Shiro eagerly.

“So what do you think you’ll start with? A bracelet? Necklace? Clothing?”

Shiro fiddled with the finger hold of his coffee cup bashfully as Hunk flipped a crepe over. The creaking overhead had yet to silence, and Shiro could invision Lance fusing about his room, stepping through strewn clothes with a face mask setting on his skin. He likely wouldn’t be down for another ten minutes if he wanted to be on time, so Shiro indulged Hunk’s eager questions for as long as their privacy would allow them.

“I was thinking of looking for an ankle bracelet? You know, something that won’t get in the way at work.”

“Like a ring?”

Shiro shoved at the man, “Ha-ha,” and leaned back to give Hunk some room. “Seriously, though. I wanted something small. Something...dainty.”

“And _gold_.”  

“Oh, _definitely_ something gold,” Shiro mused.

And they both chuckle, a shared fondness warming the space between them.

Shiro ditches his coffee to help Hunk with the rest of breakfast, alpha and beta working fluidly as further creaking joined Lance’s early-to-rise footsteps. The tread is definitely Keith’s, a subtle drag to each padded footstep the only indicator that has Shiro guessing. And quite accurately too.

Because the alpha trudges in wearing a pair of oversized pajama bottoms—courtesy of Lance—along with a more fitting top that Shiro had dug around for in some of the boxes stored in the garage. Keith is sleep-mused, swaying on his feet with each step, and he sinks into a dining chair with his head pillowed in his arms while Hunk set to work making him a plate.

“Goodmorning, Keith,” Shiro called softly.

And Keith returned the greeting with a low grunt, “Mornin’,” before he cracked an eye open and stared at the plate passed near his arms. “Thanks,” he yawned.

Hunk smiled, “Feel free to make it however you want it,” and placed a spoon in the whip-cream and frozen strawberries. Keith goes for the sliced bananas and hazelnut spread a little too eagerly, knocks the nutella over on the first attempt, and quickly sets it back upright.

“Ugh, why am I so groggy this morning?”

Hunk and Shiro share a look then smile back at Keith. Ah, young wolves.

“It’s the approaching full moon,” Shiro says fondly. “Your body is sensing the moon’s pull.”

Keith gives a grunt as he spreads the chocolate over the bananas and plops them on the crepe. “When does it go away?” he asks as he rolls his banana and nutella creation. The liberal amount of hazelnut spread oozes out the ends. Hunk tries to keep his expression friendly even as he is screaming internally.

“Well, after the full moon for sure.” Hunk smiles charmingly as Keith freezes.

“Wait, you mean...”

“Yup, you’ll feel worse the closer we get. But don’t worry, the first time is always the worst.”

Keith gives an uncharacteristic feline hiss and bites into his rolled crepe violently. More chocolate drips out and plops on the plate with a splat.

Hunk sets down a glass of orange juice before Keith and subtly gestures at Shiro to join him back in the kitchen.

“So, when do you think you’ll tell him?” Hunk inquires.

“Tell me what?”

Shiro looked back over his shoulder, over at where Keith had paused mid bite and had cocked a brow, and made a face. There was nutella all over his mouth. “Tell you that you need to mind your business, pup. This isn’t about you, believe it or not,” Shiro says with mock seriousness.

Keith fired back with a roll of his eyes. He even managed a taunting tongue that Shiro returned just as teasingly, before he turned back towards Hunk and lowered his voice.

“I’m thinking the sooner the better. Definitely before the full moon if I can help it.”

“So this weekend, then,” Hunk prodded. “The full moon’s only two days away, man.”

“Which is why I need to rush this a bit,” Shiro sighed. “I don’t want to wait for the hunt to ask. Not when everyone’s emotions will be running wild and our instincts will have already taken over. There are just too many ways for it to go wrong, Hunk, and I—” Shiro sagged a bit. “I want it to be perfect. I just—I _can’t_ mess this one up. I can’t.”

“Hey, I get it,” Hunk reassured with centering hands on Shiro’s shoulders. “It’s been stressful around here lately with everything that’s been going on. Just, do what you feel is right, Shiro.” Hunk’s expression softened. “Trust me when I say Lance has been waiting for this since he first laid eyes on you. All you gotta’ do is ask him.”

“Ask me what?”

Lance walked in already dressed down in his usual dark blue scrubs and wearing his week old—and substantially _less_ blood-stained—crocs he’d gotten the last time they’d run out. He looks a little sleep deprived, his smile not as saturated when he sees them, but he’s still his usual chipper self as he headed straight for the coffee maker and raised a brow on the lingering question.

A question that has Shiro flushing, _caught_ , and wracking his brain for a reasonable response that won’t give him away. Hunk pulls back from Shiro and hands Lance an already filled mug while Shiro tries to gather his thoughts.

“Careful, Lance,” Keith says around his fifth crepe; effectively giving Shiro more time. And the alpha points, finger wagging their way as he slurred, “I already got barked at for that.” The nutella is all over his face and this time Hunk can’t stop the grimace.

“Ha. You call that barking?” Hunk quipped. “Wait till Shiro _really_ means it.”

Shiro flushed darker, eyes trying to evade Lance’s own as the omega sipped at his coffee and inclined his head a bit; waiting.

And Shiro finally coughed, sputtered, “I was just going to ask if I could swing by and pick you up from work tonight.”

Which wasn’t too out of the norm. Shiro would often come by and get Lance for end of the week grocery shopping, needing the extra helping hands for the two carts full they usually walked out with at the end. And Lance must not think anything of it, choosing to shrug noncommittally and hum, “Sure,” as he wandered Keith’s way. “Is it cool if you drop me off then, Hunk?”

The beta nodded, choked down the rest of his own cup before sliding the mug towards the sink and clapping Shiro on the shoulder. “Course, Buddy. Just let me get ready real quick and I’ll drop you off on my way in. See you to tonight?” Hunk directed the question Shiro's way, and Shiro grunted his agreement before the beta smiled and disappeared towards the staircase.

It’s a nice reprieve. One that allows for Shiro to sink into the lazy crawl of the morning sun and disappear in his own sense. Keith and Lance lose him either way in their own little world, chatting quietly amongst themselves save for Lance’s outlandish gasp here and there and Keith’s resulting guffaw. And Lance’s face screws up, in that adorable little scrunch of defiance that Shiro can’t help but adore, before leaning forward and wiping off a smear of nutella from Keith’s lips; giggling just as energetically when Keith retaliated and poked Lance’s nose with a chocolate-covered finger. Then both of them are giggling and licking their fingers clean.

It almost makes Shiro rethink his earlier decision.

Almost...

* * *

 “What are we doing here again?”

Pidge trailed Shiro like one would a child and their parent, looking from glass to glass like Shiro had done seconds prior as they walked case to case to case. They’d been window shopping for well over an hour, working the crowded mall efficiently and only stopping to get Pidge a cinnamon-sugar pretzel like Shiro knew she wanted, even if she doesn’t ask.

Hunger sated and patience thinning, Pidge could only take so much more before she was moaning, groaning. Dragging her feet as the unknown got to her.

Even Shiro’s mindless, “I’m looking for a present,” wasn’t enough to quell her antsyness.

“Why are you acting so _weird_ , Shiro. Just tell me.”

Shiro looked down at her, hands resting gently against the front desk, and she cocked her head stubbornly before drumming her nails against the glass and flicking her eyes up at the approaching employee.

“It’s just a present, Pidge,” Shiro said again; sheepish. “I wanted to—oh, yes, that one if you could.” He smiled at the short female jeweler that _oh’s_ and _ah’s_ at such an elegant choice, fingers careful as she pulled out the pillow like cushion from behind the counter.

“We can modify the length of the chain if you like,” she says. “The fit tends to run a little small around the ankle.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Shiro waved gently; turned to Pidge when the jeweler handed it to him and let it shine in the light with a worried, “What do you think?”

Pidge gives the piece a thoughtful once over, trying her damned hardest to indulge the alpha like he wanted, but she’s not very good with this kind of thing. She’s probably just as bad, if not worse, than Shiro when it comes to dealing with this sort of stuff, but he’d needed a lead in to the conversation. A way to approach Pidge without it feeling awkward.

And Shiro felt that including Pidge in his hunt for a first gift would mean a lot to the girl once she realized the implication. _Especially_ considering she hadn’t presented yet, and, technically, didn’t require the request of permission that Hunk and Keith did.

So Shiro had asked, and Pidge had shifted, hands crammed in her coat pocket as she tried, “It’s...nice.”

And really it was.

The gold chain was thin, but sturdy in its own right, and the connecting length that dangled down the side had a small, blue apatite stone imprinted in the tiny, flat ring of metal. The piece was delicate.

It was...

“What is this for, exactly?”

Shiro placed the bracelet back in the jeweler's hands, still choosing to gloss over the importance of Pidge’s question with an encouraging, “It’s perfect,” before he started fishing for his wallet. “Do you mind gift-bagging it for me?"

The young woman beamed, “Not at all,” and took Shiro’s card just as Pidge started tugging at his shirt sleeve.

“ _Alpha_ ,” she whined impatiently. Growled, “Stop being a vague _asshole_ and-“

“Language, Katie,” Shiro chided, though he doesn’t really put his heart into it.

He thanked the jeweler when she handed his card back, bouncing on the heels of his feet when she pushed the small gift bag his way. And he’s more than grateful when he sees the fluffy bow dangling from the handle, as airy and light as the present itself, before taking it with another hum of gratitude and turning with Pidge in tow.

“C’mon,” he said happily. “That’s the last of it.”

In turn, Pidge just crossed her arms over her chest, ready to roll her eyes at the man, when Shiro held the gift out in front of her.

“Here,” he said. Watched as her eyes widened questioningly as he shook out the bag in insistent invitation. “Hold onto it for me,” he smiled.

“Wha-” Pidge paused, fingers shaking as she reached out hesitantly, and when they closed around the thin ribbon of a handle, she looked up at Shiro in confusion. “But why?”

“Just because,” Shiro shrugged. Stared off into the packed parking lot before looking down at Pidge out of the corner of his eye and suppressing a smile. “I know Lance will be overjoyed when he hears you were the one keeping it safe before I gave it to him.”

_Click._

The words register, and Pidge lets out a squeal so unlike herself that is so incredibly loud, a few patrons pause in their journey and watch as she launches herself into Shiro’s side with holler.

“No way, no way, no _way_! Shiro!” Pidge screams.

Shiro’s brows jump and he gasps, “ _Pidge_!” with just as much vigor as the girl squeezes him. Crushes his sides and pressed the air from his lungs in a way she hadn’t been able to do a year ago.

She’s getting stronger by the day.

“Are you serious! Please tell me you’re serious, Shiro, oh my _moon_.” Pidge detached herself skillfully and scrubbed her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe this. I can’t _believe_ this. Lance is gonna be so surprised. He’s gonna—he’s gonna—” Pidge made a pitched sound in her throat and whirled on Shiro. “Hunk owes me twenty bucks,” she said hastily.

And Shiro blinked, “W-what?”

“Twenty bucks,” she said again. “I bet him twenty bucks that you’d court Lance before I presented. I win. You’re going to do it. I can’t believe you’re _actually_ going to do it.”

“Was I really that painfully indifferent?” Shiro laughed weakly. Tried to keep the unease out of his voice.

But Pidge just punched playfully at his shoulder, setting a steady pace back to the car swinging the bag back and forth. As if she didn’t yet believe it’s presence. “Well, you weren’t exactly transparent, Shiro. It’s always two steps forward, ten steps back with you two. I thought it’d be at _least_ another year before you got your head out of your—”

Shiro cleared his throat, and Pidge smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. But you know what I mean,” she waved. “I was starting to worry you’d miss your chance, really. Lance _is_ pretty popular amongst the alpha’s here. Even the beta’s can be persistent.”

Shiro felt his gut twist at the thought and tried to keep his hand steady when he opened the car door. Because he’d known that the longer he waited, the greater the risk that some other alpha would come by and steal Lance away. Do what he’d failed to do more times than he could count and offer the man a better, more stable, life. One without constant change. One where he wouldn’t have to deal with Shiro’s piling failures as a protector.

“Hey, now,” Pidge called, small fingers wrapping tight around his wrist to ground him. There’s the faint smell of apple cider, something distinctly warm and heavy that has Shiro blinking in surprise, even if Pidge isn’t fully aware of what it is her body is doing. She smiles, “That’s not the go-head for you to start beating yourself up. You’re gonna be great for him, Shiro. And Lance will be good for you too, believe me. You guys are sickening.”

“ _Heh,”_ Shiro chuckles. “Thanks, Katie.” And he looks at her with a shy smile. “So I take it you’re okay with this?”

Pidge vibrates in her seat. “ _More_ , than okay, Shiro. I just scored twenty bucks.”

Shiro barked out a laugh, grinning the rest of the way home and humming a soft tune under his breath while Pidge gave him a short update on her studies. She doesn’t worry much about her presentation, confident that she’ll be a late bloomer like Matt had been, but Shiro reassures her that it’ll happen when it happens. Reassures her that no matter what, he’s proud of the were that she’s becoming. Of the young—

“Do you want pups, Shiro?”

The car swerves, tires clipping the sidewalk, and he white knuckles the steering wheel with a harsh gasp before glancing Pidges way.

“That isn’t—I haven’t thought—do you _want_ me to have pups?”

A shrug. A shrug and a soft sound of not so genuine nonchalance as she picked at her jeans. “Well, I mean. Lance has a big family. And our pack is pretty small as is. I was just—wondering.”

“Does—” Shiro took his eyes off the road, looked back, and adjusted his grip. Shifted a little. “Do you know if Lance...y’know.”

“Wants kids?” Pidge asks. And when Shiro nods quickly, she cracks a smile. “Oh yeah.”

So that thought follows Shiro. Hangs overhead from the car, all the way to the house where Pidge makes a beeline for her bedroom and stashes the gift in a secret place that ‘no one knows about.’

Shiro isn’t too sure how he feels about that, but he’s got bigger things to worry about. Like the thought of Lance— _cough-cough_ —wanting... _er..._ _offspring_.

 _Pups_ , his alpha so helpfully provided, sounding guttural and filled with yearning. _Our pups_.

And, no. Not _our_ pups. Not anything.

_Not yet._

And it’s like that for the rest of the day, Shiro going rounds with his alpha who won’t settle the fuck down no matter how hard he trains or how still he sits. It’s like the damn thing _knows_ what’s coming. Which, to be fair, it does. It’s apart of him. And the idea, the _fact_ , that Shiro is just, _hours_ away from fulfilling a year long dream? It has his inner companion restless. Eager. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this so close to the full moon?

Shiro paces the length of his bedroom once, twice, looks up and realizes he’s killed the better part of the day just being a procrastinating _mess_ , and he’s still got one more important thing to do.

That important thing being _Keith_.

He’s got about an hour and a half before he needs to leave, Lance’s shift not ending until eight thirty-five respectively. And Shiro’s already taken a shower, dressed himself in a black button down and those dark jeans that Lance once complimented him on. Read: his _ass_ , but Shiro is too embarrassed to admit it aloud. And he spends a good twenty fussing over his hair, wondering if it’d be best to pin it back, or let it dry natural and leave it. Let it hang and provide some sort of shield just in case.

But Hunk grimaces, “ _Bleck_ ,” and has to call Pidge in for immediate back up.

“I say we just cut it.”

“We’re not cutting his hair, Pidge. I was thinking we should just pin it again. Get it out of his face.”

“Oh, good call,” Pidge hums. “Got any bobby-pins, then?”

Hunk slaps a few in Pidge’s open palm and tries for a reassuring smile that makes the choke of Shiro’s collar a little overbearing. He rolls his shoulders, clears his throat, and even though he trusts Pidge, he does, he keeps his eyes cracked just in case the girl got a little scissor happy.

“He’s nervous.”

“I’m not... _nervous_ ,” Shiro huffed; shifting in Pidge’s desk chair and blinking when the pressure from the girls fingers disappeared. She stepped back a bit, Hunk cocking his head to the side, and Shiro felt his anxiety ramp up again. “How do I look?”

“Like a father running late to parent teacher conferences.”

Hunk smacked her. “A very _sexy_ father running late to parent teacher conferences. You look killer, man.”

“Thanks,” Shiro said, trying and failing to sound confident. He knows the two are joking, but he can’t help his distraught nerves, the persistent restlessness in the back of his mind. Every second is a means to panic and the stress is starting to get to him.

“Eyes up, alpha,” Pidge says suddenly, to which Shiro immediately straightened and looked between his pack mates. They offered gentle smiles, expressions of encouragement.

“It’s gonna be great, Shiro.”

“He’s going to love you no matter what.”

“I mean,” Pidge looked up. “You have no idea how long he’s talked about this. Going on and on about a fantasy he thought would never happen.”

“You could be wearing nothing but a party hat and Lance would think it romantic,” Hunk chuckled.

It soothes at his insecurities, eased the tension from his shoulders and had his lungs working more efficiently. The pit in his gut doesn’t seem so infinite, and the thrill and excitement returns tenfold. Tramples any remaining doubts and has his pack-mates preening in success.

“Alright,” Shiro said, pushing up and out of his chair with his chest puffed in newfound conviction. “We’re doing this.”

“Yes we are, Buddy,” Hunk grins. “Ah, but first. Keith.”

_Right. Keith._

“Also, do you still have those old reading glasses? The ones with low prescription?”

Shiro raised a brow at Pidge, drawling an unsure, “yes,” that comes out more as a question than a solid answer.

But the girl doesn’t evaluate, merely hits the back of her palm to Shiro's chest saying, “Good. Wear those.”

And Hunk doesn’t have much of an answer either.

* * *

 “Hey, Keith, can I talk to you for a sec?”

A lengthy pause.

A tight grimace.

Shiro tries again.

“Keith! Hey, do you have a moment? I wanted to—to,”

“This is just sad, alpha.” Pidge crammed another handful of chips into her mouth, never once looking up from whatever video game she’d resumed in Keith’s absence. Shiro was sure the man had asked her to pause it during his quick intermission, but the teen had obviously ignored the order.

Pidge was merciless.

“I sound awkward.”

“You sound fine,” Pidge argued. “But what's _awkward_ is that you’re standing here talking to yourself, when you should be talking to Keith, chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken,” Shiro grumbled.

Pidge shook her head. “Then get your tail out from between your legs and tell the man you’re—”

“Keith! Hi,” Shiro cleared his throat, ran his palms along his thighs and went for a smile when the alpha emerged from the hallway. “How’s it going?”

Keith cocked his head, clearly caught off guard, but he schooled his expression rather quickly and shrugged. “Took a piss without my legs shaking, so that’s a win.” He looked over at Pidge. “And I see you started without me, traitor.”

“Hey, now,” Pidge placated. “We said one minute limit on the pause breaks. Penalties on you, pal.”

“I’m a cripple!”

Pidge laughed, “Yeah, barely. Now pay attention to twitchy back here, he’s driving me insane.”

Keith looked up from T.V, no longer enraptured in the shaky jerk of Pidge’s character, and at the look on Shiro’s face, he lost his smile.

“Is everything okay?”

Shiro hopes his next, “Yes,” sounds convincing enough. And it must because Keith immediately relaxes and inches closer; waiting.

So Shiro gestures with a nod, “Walk with me?”

Keith has absolutely no idea what Shiro wants to talk about, but he follows Shiro anyway. The sun is mid-set, a cool breeze rustling the leaves and perfuming the air with cedar and pine. It’s an inhale worthy of a deep drag, his body humming at its crispness compared to the houses stuffy familiarity. He’s come to love this place in his own way. With it’s spacious and peaceful aura. Really, everything his apartment _wasn’t_.

If Keith made it through the full moon and the hunt without a hitch, he had no doubt in him is mind he’d end his lease and move in with his new pack.

With _Shiro_.

And as the sun gets lower, the pull of the moon grows stronger. Keith shudders at the feel of it thrumming beneath his skin, alive and thready in his veins. In just two days, he would be at its mercy, and though the thought is exciting, it's terrifying in its own right.

Shiro must read the look on Keith’s face then (just like he always does) because he steps closer and drapes an arm around Keith’s shoulders; his heat infectious.

“I saw you this morning. You're starting to feel it, huh? The moon?”

Keith nodded. _Shuddered_.

But Shiro eases the attack with a wave of reassurance that gets Keith’s heart racing, if only a little faster.

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “The first moon is harder for everyone. Everything is new and overwhelming and it gets a little scary, but it also gets easier. More natural. Just do your best to embrace it, okay, Keith? Fighting it never worked for anyone, believe me, I’ve tried. And trust me when I say it sucks. I’ve never had a transformation as miserable as my first full one.”

Shiro laughs, more at the wave of nostalgia than the actual comedic side, and Keith gives him an incredulous look for it.

“Wait, hold on,” Keith waves. “The great _Takashi_ _Shirogane_ had a bad _first_ transformation?”

Shiro, to his credit, blushes.

“Just to clarify, it was honestly a terrifying experience. I had never _really_ felt what it was like to have that much unlimited power running through me like that. I was so paranoid about losing control and hurting those I cared about, I didn’t come out of my room for an entire week leading up to the hunt. I tried fighting it off for as long as I could, of course. But the change is inevitable. It happens whether you want it to or not. But your wolf will responds to your heart’s desires. Nothing you do will be out of your control, it’ll just be...amplified. Amped up by your alpha. It’s both a blessing and a curse, actually.” Shiro’s voice gets soft, but Keith can’t tell what Shiro’s thinking.

“What do you mean?” He asks instead.

Shiro’s brows pinched, jaw working as if testing the feel of his words before saying, “Well,” and searching the tree line for help. “Your wolf will always respond to your deepest desires, Keith. Whether that’s you wanting to protect your pack, or you wanting to protect yourself. So if there are things you are trying to withhold, things you don’t want said or done outright, your reluctance isn’t of concern to your wolf. Which is why it’s usually a good idea to take care of any lingering issues you may have like that before your wolf does.”

“Things?” Keith parroted. “What— _er_ —things like what?”

Shiro turned his eyes towards the fading light, worried his lower lip between his teeth gently and felt Keith’s eyes linger patiently.

“Let’s say you secretly have issues with someone, someone who made you feel slighted or angered recently and you haven’t gotten an apology yet. Or let’s say you have a fear of them. Maybe a crush. Your wolf is a complex creature, but it’s also incredibly simple. It won’t follow proper social conventions like you might want to as a human. If that someone you don’t like approaches you, the wolf will see them as a threat to the pack and challenge them to a fight. No questions asked.”

_Ah._

A ping of realization hits Keith at that. He’s not normally the most perceptive when it comes to conversations like this, but he thinks he sees where this is going.

“This is about Lance. Isn’t it?”

And Shiro doesn’t reply at first, but he does let a sigh slip. The grip of his hand tightening a little at the stabbing pin to his fleeting point.

It’s the only reaction Keith needs for a dense ringing sound to start up in the back of his head as the words process. Register. Prompt him to shrug Shiro’s hand off his shoulder no matter how comforting it had felt moments prior.

“You want him. As a...as a mate? You want to mate him?”

Shiro turns to look at Keith fully, or at least tries to look at him best he can with eyes downcast and posture sheepish, and just like that, it all comes together for Keith.

The ringing gets louder.

“You—” his throat clogs, voice getting rough at the edges. So he coughs to straighten it, pummels at the tightness in his esophagus until it lodges heavy in his chest. Weighs him down. “You want my permission. W-why do you want _my_ permission.?”

“Because I want to court him,” Shiro says. “But only if—” he cuts himself off.

Let’s the empty space speak for itself.

And Keith frowns. “If what? If I’m okay with it?” Shiro still doesn’t say anything and Keith laughs; disbelieving. “Shiro, it’s not like I have a crush on him or anything. You’re not stealing him...from...me...” Keith froze, watched Shiro’s subtle flinch. “You think you’re stealing him from me? Do you think I like _Lance_?”

The ringing has turned into a persistent buzzing sound, less audible, but seeming more torturesome than the ringing had when Keith closes his eyes.

This isn’t happening.

This _is_ happening.

How could Shiro be so close, yet so incredibly _far_? Keith has a crush, yes, but not on _Lance_ —the idiot. Not like the one he had on Shir—oh.

Oh shit.

Oh _shit!_ This. This was all going to go downhill so fucking fast. Even admitting it to himself had his inner wolf perking up in interest, it’s tail wagging at the blurted admission. But anyone with eyes would want Shiro. He was the perfect man, the perfect alpha! He’d make the perfect boyfriend for anybody.

And he deserved someone perfect, too.

Not...not a broken thing like _Keith_.

Keith opened his eyes; tries to ease his frown into something hopefully resembling a smile, though it pains him.

And when he says, “That’s great, Shiro,” his lips moving awkward around each word, the pain advances into something lethal. “He’s all yours, man. A-And best of luck. I...watched him during that pack bonding. I just know he’ll say yes.”

_He’ll say yes..._

Keith doesn’t know exactly how to describe it, but at his words Shiro releases a breath and the tension just, _pours_ out of him. Like he’s been holding it for years. And maybe he has. But if Shiro really loves Lance this much, why wait so long? He bets Lance was wondering the same thing.

“Thanks, Keith. I just really wanted to get everything out in the open. Can I tell him that we talked? That you’re okay with all this?” Shiro smiles weakly. “You know how he puts himself second to everyone else’s needs. He won’t even consider it unless I’ve got the final okay from you. He really hates inner pack drama”

“Oh. Y-yeah, sure,” Keith barely hears himself. “Do whatever will make you happy.”

The bees are becoming angry hornets and Keith needs to leave, needs to leave, needs to leave. Needs to go before the wound gapes, spilling ichor and congealed emotion down the front of his shirt and into the cold dirt below.

He throws up a weak thumb, “Well, good talk.”

And wishes, just for a split second, that he’d never made it out of that forest.

* * *

 

 

 

> **Kashi** 32m ago
> 
> _Parked in front of the West entrance. Are the white lines for emergency vehicles????_
> 
> **Kashi** 26m ago
> 
> _I am now parked BESIDE the West entrance. No longer in front._
> 
> **Kashi** 25m ago
> 
> _Did I mention white lines ARE for emergency vehicles only? Please apologize to the young man with a broken collarbone for me. I was unaware the gurney needed to be that close to the door._
> 
> **Kashi** 15m ago
> 
> _Everything ok??_

“ _No_ ,” Lance stressed, valiantly fighting the neck of his sweater and cursing the choice of clothing when it defended itself accordingly. His knee slammed into a partnering locker, arms flailing wildly above him, and it takes the combined efforts of his own energetic wiggling and Plaxum’s meticulous fingers, to free him from his cotton prison with a gasp, “Thanks.”

Plaxum nodded, used to his antics by now, and finished dressing with routine patience. “Care to explain what has you in such an uproar? After a twelve hour shift no less?”

Lance kicked his shoes into the forgotten depths of his locker, his scrubs meeting the same fate as he snatched his backpack in hand and scooped his phone up along with it. “Shiro’s picking me up today,” he rushed. “Got a little tangled up in a late arrival—broken collarbone—and it looks like I’ve kept him waiting. So I should,” Lance jammed his thumb in the direction of the door, already hightailing it out of the changing room as quickly as an incoming doctor will let him, and Plaxum waves, “Have fun on your date,” as Lance rushes out.

“It’s not a date!”

Visitors and patients alike, criss crossing from one room to another, going hallway to hallway, double Lance’s arrival time by five minutes. He’s usually more punctual, but the weekends are inevitably lively, and a sorority keen on having a backflip contest had proven detrimental to two of their star football players and resulted in their spinal cord, becoming spinal _cords_. Then, of course, there had been the boy...

Lance sidesteps a child playing keep away with their mother, and it takes another few close calls before Lance realizes he’s outside and apologizing profusely to a startled looking Shiro, who's leaning a little too heavily against the passenger side to be a good sign.

Still, the alpha has it in him to perk up.

Shiro blinks, startled by the sudden onslaught of wounded, “I’m sorrys,” that Lance has prepared beforehand, and he straightens with the beginnings of a smile as Lance crossed the open asphalt between them.

“I’m _really_ , really, sorry, Shiro. I clocked out, but the paramedics came on a pile up call and that boy whose collar bone was broken had more problems than _just_ that, and at some point the newbie dropped the I.V so I had to send for an entirely new one and I just, didn’t keep track of the time like I should’ve.” Lance went to reach for the alpha, his arms just barely making it around the breadth of Shiro's back, when a crinkle of plastic catches him across the throat. Halts him mid hug and kills the umpteenth apology that doesn’t even make it past his parted lips.

Lance blinked, more than a little surprised, and felt his way along the sudden bouquet of flowers that had practically fabricated between the two of them in a beautiful combination of jasmine and white roses. The petals are soft and yielding under his gentle exploration, their scents blending into a thin balm that lingers when he pulls away.

Because there’s the whole matter of Shiro shoving flowers into his throat, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be finding an explanation on his own, so he turns the question upwards, finds Shiro has gone pink along his scar, and feels the bouquet push his way a little more forcefully.

“For you,” Shiro finally says.

And Lance drops his gaze in silent disbelief as he reached up to slowly take the group of ribboned stems in hand.

“T-Thank you,” Lance breathed. “They’re beautiful, but,” Lance cocked his head. “Aren’t we going grocery shopping?” He pitched. “This seems a little... _extravagant_ for just Walmart.”

And there must be some sort of tension wound tight in Shiro's shoulders, in the rigidity of his spine, because the alpha snaps loose between one second and the next, his posture relaxing so suddenly, that Lance is almost scared he’s going to tip forward as a bark of laughter erupted deep within his chest.

He chuckles, “Yeah, that would be a little extreme, wouldn’t it,” and sobers enough to face Lance head on with an overwhelming _fondness_ to his expression. Not that he’s doing anything to hide it, either.

Lance had been able to scent the underlying warmth in the man’s usual pine since he’d stepped close, a tinge of something positive and loving that was, dare he say, being pumped _purposefully_ into the air. And wondered, distantly, how he was going to fair in such a small space when standing outside was proving difficult in itself.

Moon help him.

Shiro reached out suddenly, the warmth of his hand making Lance go weak in the knees, and he curled a stray tuft of hair behind the shell of Lance’s ear like he’d taken to doing much more recently this month. Almost like it was an unconscious fixation.

Like it gave Shiro a reason to touch him.

“And as tempting as going grocery shopping with you sounds right now,” Shiro flicked his gaze down, snagging his lower lip with a canine, and looked more than a little nervous when he breathed, “I’d much rather take you somewherte far more special.”

 _Bathump_.

That’s the sound of Lance’s heart imploding in his chest as he finally, _finally_ , registered those words.

Those few measly words that he’d waited years—no. His entire _life_ to hear. And for a moment, it’s like he’s dying. Like, for the past seven years of his life he’d spent it slowly bleeding out. A flatlined sort of hope that never wavered, but failed to flourish under Shiro's tentative attention.

But those words. Those stupid little words are like a jolt to his system. A current that sends his heart skipping, and blood rushing in those short bursts he got when things were going good between them. When Shiro held him just a second longer, or smiled just a little harder when he was around. He knows he’s blushing, he knows it. And Shiro, by the looks of it, can smell the distinct wave of excitement, unadulterated in its potency, because he blushes too. Eyes dilating the tiniest bit as he sucked in a breath, held it, and stored it to memory.

“Is that a ‘yes’, then?” Shiro exhales roughly.

And Lance nods his head like an idiot, just so Shiro can relax, and is overwhelmingly grateful when the alpha steps aside to let him collapse down in the car seat with a look of utter bewilderment.

Shiro was asking him to dinner.

This...was this a date?

_Bathump._

Lance isn’t sure how—it's been a wild day, okay—but it must be some sort of leftover effects from shell shock because he’s just now realizing he should’ve guessed something was up by the way Shiro was dressed.

Because right there, right in front of his face the whole time, were those moon-forsaken glasses that Lance had all but drooled over that one time he’d caught Shiro up doing paperwork in the dead of night. They were sharp, sophisticated, holding an aged effect that made Shiro seem even _more_ mature despite his usual self. And Lance had told Pidge, in _confidence_ , that he would gladly kill for Shiro if it meant seeing the man in them one more time.

Was it hot in here?

“Lance?”

He could swear it was hot in here.

“Lance.”

“Huh?” Lance startled; tries to keep it cool when Shiro aims a look his way and repeated himself.

“Are you hungry?” He asks. “I figured we could stop for dinner if you hadn’t eaten yet.”

Lance nodded tightly, “That works.”

How the _fuck_ had he missed the button up?

Compared to Shiro, Lance suddenly felt strangely underdressed. Better off than his usual sweatpants and shirt, courtesy of Hunk’s adamence this morning—oh, that little sneak—but it was still...lackluster.

But _Shiro_ , dear moon. _Shiro_ had gone for formal-casual, choosing a shirt that was snug, but not too uncomfortably tight that the fit of it was unbearable. And it served to highlight his greatest assets, the muscles of his arms flexing with every movement. Lance tried hard not to stare, even though he was set and determined to immediately scan the man’s lower extremities once he had the chance to get out, but it was hard not to feel a thrill knowing the man had dressed for him.

Those were definitely the pants he liked too.

Moon help him.

The restaurant that Shiro picks is small, nestled back in a long row of closed side shops turning in for the night, and by the looks of it, there are only a few more people lingering, but Shiro doesn’t seemed worried in the slightest.

In fact, he looks alive with confidence as he reaches down to pull Lance’s hand in his own, locking the car behind them as an afterthought, and matching Lance’s lesser stride effortlessly.

He clears his throat, “So.”

And Lance is so caught up, marveling at the feel of the alpha’s hand in his own that he barely registers they’re inside until they are.

“Does a table work?” Shiro asks.

Lance nods dumbly, feeling shy under the hostesses inviting gaze, and he presses close to Shiro’s arm for as long as the man will let him as they’re led to a small table in the far corner and gestured at to sit down.

It’s really quite elegant.

The lighting is warm and sheltered, the inside just as much, and the chocolate brown paint is comforting behind the gold rimmed decorations spread out along the wall. A short candle sits between them, casting Shiro in a welcoming light, and Lance wonders, just what exactly does he look like right now, practically _drowning_ in that cream colored sweater that Shiro...had gotten him...for Christmas.

Oh, Hunk was dead. Hunk was _so_ dead.

They must’ve all been in on this. On...whatever _this_ was.

A date?

 _A date._ His omega coos. **_Courting_** _._

But that—now _that_ was a little extreme. This was just dinner. Plus, Shiro hadn’t asked him out outright. He’d asked for dinner. Lance was pretty sure Shiro had asked Hunk to dinner once, and that wasn’t anything to read into. But Shiro had shown up, dressed to the nines in all his favorite attire, and had taken him...here.

So was this...

“Is this a date?”

Shiro blanched, eyes widening behind those criminally attractive lenses, and like this, with his hair pushed back, Lance can see everything.

The alpha looks suddenly lost, eyes narrowed in confusion as he breathed, “What?”

And just like that, Lance feels his hope die; is sure Shiro can see the way it gets quashed at his reaction, because the alpha jumps. “No!” And Lance rears back. “No, I mean, _yes_ ,” Shiro gasps. “A date. I—this is a date, Lance. It’s _totally_ a date, I didn’t mean—”

“Bread?”

Shiro shakes himself out of his panic, choosing to ignore Lance’s open look of surprise in favor of declaring, “Yes. Please, the bread,” and shoving his silverware aside for the waitress that looks far too sympathetic to not have heard anything.

She clicks her pen. “How about I start you two off with some drinks. Maybe an appetizer?”

“I’ll take an apple cider,” Lance says.

“Black widow porter, please,” Shiro mumbles with a weak finger, and the waitress—her name tag says Rebecca—flitters away with one final look at Shiro.

The silence is maddening.

“So,” Lance whistles; drumming his fingers a bit to feign nonchalance. “This _is_ a date, or...”

“It’s a date,” Shiro says; confidently this time.

And Lance nods, “Cool, cool.” Waves a hand. “So this is just like, a dinner date, right? You know like when girls say, let’s have a dinner date,️ or whatever. It’s all sort of, a figure of speech. Nothing’s actually... _legitimate_.”

Rebecca brings their drinks, leaves a water beside’s Shiro’s as a means of encouragement, and disappears before they can say anymore. Not that Shiro minds. He reaches for his water instead, brows pinched in thought, and nods with conviction, “No, this is a date. A real date,” before hiding his flush in the safety of his glass.

 _See,_ his omega grins.

Still, it takes a few seconds for the concept to settle. For the idea of Shiro taking him on a date to really _sink_ into his marrow; take root in his mind. He’d been excited before, yes, but the disconnect and unknown had made him cautious. Now, though, when the words hit, and they hit alright, it’s like all the blood in his body comes rushing back to his head again. A _real_ date.

Heat flares up the length of his neck, finding purchase in the slack of his cheeks where he can’t find it in himself to correct the resulting gape, and Shiro is prompted by the long stretch of silence because he lets down his barrier, eyes quick to take in the reaction of color, and Lance has no waiting line of defense he can use when he looks at his lap with a stunned, “ _Oh_.”

“Oh?” Shiro echoed.

Lance swallowed thickly; fiddled with a stray string on his jeans. “I just—wish I’d had more time to get ready,” he laughed weakly. “Especially with all,”

 _This_ , he says with a gesture of his hands.

But Shiro must miss the humor. In fact, Lance isn’t even sure he’s listening with the way the man has completely zoned, eyes fixated somewhere on his face and actively tracing what Lance is lost on deciphering. It has the heat returning for a comeback, a wash of scarlet against his dark skin that Shiro finds tantalizing. It’s the same color his teeth could make. A little more and there would be pricks of purple, just like there were on Lance’s throat right now should he pull the collar of his sweater down. The sweater _he’d_ gotten him.

And Shiro feels, believes, and _means_ every bit of it when he says, “You’re beautiful, Lance.”

Not, you look fine, Lance.

Or, don’t worry about the little things, Lance.

_We’re beautiful._

A smile splits across his face, shoulders relaxing and a certain shyness easing into his expression. He leans in towards Shiro, hands finding their way under his thighs as he ducked his head a bit and laughed. “You’re not too bad yourself, alpha. I never thought you were one for surprises, though.”

Shiro melted into the melody of Lance’s words, all earlier doubts and apprehension banished from his thoughts. It’s just like how they always were, synchronized and playing off one another. It’s not as hard to breathe, now that it’s out there. Now that he knows Lance is enjoying this, probably more than Shiro could’ve ever anticipated with the way the man practically _glows._

Rebecca comes by again and Shiro doesn’t waste a second rattling off a few plates. It’s such a simple thing, but Lance can’t help the feel of content knowing the alpha was ready and willing to cater to him. Rebecca smiles happily when he’s done, pleased with the newfound ease of the atmosphere, before she leaves them to it once more.

To Shiro’s day.

Or rather, his week.

Lance listens intently as Shiro talks about work, complaining accordingly about how he wishes he could see Shiro more during their longer weeks. And for some reason the omega gets worked up when Shiro admits he’d gotten a raise some Monday ago.

“We could’ve celebrated!” Lance shouts. “That’s a big deal, Shiro!”

“Nah.” Shiro shrugged. “I get raises every year. It was nothing.”

“Your success is not _nothing_ , Shiro,” Lance pouted. “Plus, it’d give me an excuse to brag about you all day.”

“Like you already don’t,” Shiro teased around a (stolen) french fry, and he deserved the next one that Lance throws at him when the passing waiter isn’t looking.

“Not fair,” Shiro snickers.

“You're just a sore loser, pup,” Lance taunts.

His cider has drained to an amber syrup, sticky and cloying against his lips as he licked the rim of his glass clean and set it beside his empty—thanks to Shiro’s hearty appetite—plate. He’ll metabolize both occupants in his stomach quickly, the alcohol not so much, even _with_ the superior speed. And he wonders, in a daze, if the drink is what gives him the necessary confidence to ask,

“Why?”

Shiro watches him, the candle flame flickering in his steely gaze. “Why what?” He hummed; voice as dense and sweet as Lance’s drink had been.

He’d bet he could get drunk off it if he listened long enough. Thinks it could be the reason he felt so light now.

“This date,” Lance murmured, leaning against his palm. “Why?”

Why now.

Why not sooner.

Why _me_.

Shiro pursed his lips. Lance recognized the troubled look and immediately reached out to run his fingers along the man’s knuckles now that...that was apparently okay. What Shiro wanted.

“I take it I’m not very good at being transparent,” Shiro says, blushing.

And Lance nodded. “Seeing through a windowless brick wall would be easier, if I were being honest.”

“So, I’m safe to assume that you’ve had, _no_ idea about my— _um_. Feelings for you, then?”

_Bathump._

“N-Not really,” Lance stutters. “But that’s more my fault than anyone else’s. I let myself be swayed by.” Lance winced. “By things that were said. I didn’t really think you could, like-like me, like that.”

_Like this._

Shiro’s brow furrowed, thoughts catching on a few key words there, and Lance quickly shakes a hand to reassure.

“It was a long time ago, Shiro. Just some alpha I ran into from high school. I wasn’t being as good at hiding my—uh, _desires_ back then. And she was just looking for someone to pick on.”

“What did she say?” Shiro asked, with just the tiniest edge of malice, Lance wouldn’t be able to catch it.

Lance, who looks troubled, if only for a moment, before sinking his front teeth in the pillow of his lower lip. “N-Nothing, really,” he tries, sees that a Shiro won’t budge on this and gives up. “She just told me that the only way you’d ever see me like _that_ , would be because of my secondary gender. It was just shit talking, Shiro, it wasn’t a big—”

“Do _you_ believe that?”

Lance blinked. Dropped his gaze to his lap. “I don’t,” he says, trying and failing to believe it himself.

And the look Shiro gives is heartbroken. Strangely guilty and worsening when Lance tries to laugh it off.

“Lance, you being an omega was never a deciding factor in this. I won’t lie that there’s something in me that, reacts _strongly_ to that side of you, but even before you presented, I was infatuated. And had I had more time back then?” Shiro licks his lips. “I would’ve fought for you. Desperately.” He says, taking Lance’s hand in his properly this time and caressing at his knuckles. “I _want_ to fight for you, Lance.”

The conviction in Shiro’s voice makes Lance’s chest tighten to an almost painful degree, the once flurry of hope quickly billowing into that of a full blow blizzard as he held Shiro’s gaze. Sought desperately for any sort of waver in the man’s declaration, so that if this _were_ some sort of sick joke, he’d be able to mask the effects of the brutality long before Shiro could exploit it. But the longer he soul searches, the weight of Shiro’s words continuing to hold their own, the more Lance starts to believe that this might actually be happening.

That Shiro might actually—

Lance startles, Shiro’s sudden nearness inclining him to take in a sharp breath to steady himself as he tried not to wither under the intensity of the alpha’s gaze. Tried to stave off the brewing anticipation that would only hurt him in the end when Shiro asks,

“May I court you, Lance?”

And that...

That has got to be the stupidest thing Shiro has ever asked him. _Does he have permission?_ Lance scoffs at the hilarity of it.

The alpha had had it since _Freshman_ year.

Of course he had his permission.

Except, Lance doesn’t say it like that. It’s more of a whine and a ragged breath as he curled into himself and cried. Had the mind to nod, _yes_ , before the alpha had a panic attack, and felt Shiro’s strong arms coming around to hold him as he hid a sob in his throat.

He desolves.

“Are you sure?” Lance cried. “Shiro, are you really sure?”

“ _God_ , Lance, _yes_ ,” Shiro gasped; carded his fingers up through Lance’s hair and pulled him up to wrap his long legs around his waist. “I’m so sure. You have no idea how sure I am.”

Shiro knocks the table askew in their freakshow of limbs; has the mind to drop a wad of twenties on the table to forgo a run of his debit, and grins at where Rebecca is watching from the sidelines enthusiastically. He mouths, “thank you,” using his hip to open the front door in haste, and carries Lance out feeling like he just won the lottery.

“Stupid alpha,” Lance hiccups, “Making me wait this long. Letting me get _old_.”

“Such a dramatic omega,” he tutted. “You aren’t _old,_  Lance. And I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m _your_ stupid alpha, now.” Shiro laughed.

Lance sniffled at the attempted sentiment, blue eyes glassy when he pulled back to look at him through a frown. “No refunds?”

“Sorry.”

“No exchanges?”

“Nope.”

Lance scrunched his nose. “Do you at least have a massage function?”

“ _Ha!”_  Shiro pressed a warm snicker into the curvature of Lance’s shoulder, his smile bright. “Now _that,_ I can do,” he said.

And Lance immediately went relaxed and soft in his arms. “Then I guess I’ll hang onto you.”

* * *

There’s a part of Shiro that feels awkward. Like something has changed drastically, even though, technically, nothing had. Shiro thinks he’s being unreasonable, that he’s trying to find ways to self-destruct _before_ he even started, but he finds some sort of comfort knowing that Lance at least _looks_ a little bit like how he _feels_. That he’s not in this suffering alone.

But the adrenaline could very well be the reason Lance is twitchy like he is. An untamed excitement running its course through his veins and coming out in a mimic of Shiro’s own anxiety. Lance was, at least Shiro thought he was, better at these sort of things than he was. The expression of emotion.

But something in the way Lance looks at him makes Shiro feel like he’s just as on edge with the new territory.

With the birth of a new connection.

Lance leans himself against the rough edges and corners of the cars center compartment, determined to be as close to Shiro as he can physically get despite the proximity and discomfort, and he laces their fingers together in a confident, but careful, hold before resting his head on Shiro’s shoulder.

It’s late.

11 p.m late.

And by the time Shiro pulls into the driveway, reluctant to let go of Lance for even just a second, the lights throughout the house have been shut down, save for the porch light.

“Hunk?” Lance asks with a creeping smile.

Shiro nods, “Definitely, Hunk,” with a near identical grin.

They gravitate back to one another, fingers linking seamlessly, and Lance giggles when Shiro growls at him, low and entirely too joking to be of threat, when his hands shake at the keyhole.

“Respect your alpha,” Shiro grunts.

Lance just laughs louder and has to silence himself quickly when the door swings open. “My alpha needs to loosen up,” Lance calls lightly.

The term immediately makes Shiro’s gut tighten, heat trailing low in his belly, ready and waiting to move _further,_ as he trailed his omega and kicked the door shut. He beats Lance to the hallway light switch, both of them needing some sort of illumination to toe their shoes off without tripping, and Shiro takes care holding on to Lance’s flowers as he does so while the omega organizes their shoes in the small boot tray.

He doesn’t say it outright, but Shiro notices how attached Lance has become to the sizable cluster of flowers. The way in which they make the man’s eyes light up some when he thinks Shiro isn’t looking. It makes him wonder if Lance has mistaken it as his first courting present, especially when he goes on about the ways he knows he can preserve the petals for years to come.

“I have to be able to show my ma,” Lance had explained with a shy little grin. “I know it’s embarrassing, but she’s crazy about these sorts of things.”

Shiro had taken extra precaution then, taking it upon himself to fill a stray vase, break the nutrient packet open, and gentle the flowers into the water with extreme care. He decides to place it in the kitchen windowsill, knowing full well that the sun will have its way with the group come morning, and loosens the collar of his shirt before heading to find where his omega had wandered off.

 _Our mate_ , his alpha pries. _Ours_.

One thing at a time, Shiro thinks back curtly. Patience yields—

Focus.

And Shiro needed to focus right now.

Because Lance—God, _Lance_ —was hovering at the edge of his bedside, fingers tracing the simple white box lacking its elementary top piece, and displaying a familiar gold chain that he rests delicately in his palm. It catches the light beautifully, and Lance makes a soft sound in the back of his throat when he notices Shiro lingering in the doorway.

“You like it?” Shiro asked gently, coming up to drape himself along his omegas back and nuzzle into his neck imploringly. “I can look for something else if you don’t.”

“God, no,” Lance gasped. “I love it. Shiro it’s _perfect_ , how did you even—” Lance shook his head incredulously.

And Shiro tells him, “Put it on,” when the man can’t seem to find the words he’s looking for. Lance looks back at Shiro, at the eager glint in the alpha’s eye, and matches it with his own giddy jump on the balls of his feet as he clambered for the edge of the bed and rolled up the ankle of his jeans.

He fusses over the latch for a moment, fingers just as shaky, if not _more_ , than Shiro’s had been moments prior. But the second Shiro catches a hint of panicked frustration, a sharpness to Lance’s breathing, he quickly sinks to his knees and places his hands over Lance’s own with a gentle, “Let me.”

Something he should’ve done in the first place, if he were being honest.

Lance hands him the feather-light bracelet easily enough, watching with contained and rapidly mounting excitement as Shiro's hands worked the piece open. But the moment that chain touches his skin, rests daintily along his ankle in a cascade of elegant gold, the rush of elation is unlike anything either of them expected.

 _Mine_ , Shiro’s alpha rumbles. Pleased to see his first gift had been accepted. Because even though the item was subtle, something hard for the eye to catch, it would act as a final warning to any and all were’s, that Lance was currently taken.

Lance was _his_.

“Shiro.”

Another shiver tore through him. Twisted at his insides and had him snapping his head up in search of Lance’s awaiting gaze where the omega was looking down at him dubiously. His fingers left the bedside, effortlessly finding their way up under Shiro’s jawline, and when they _pulled_ , desperate and persistent in ways Lance had never been, it’s like an immediate spark to the air around them. Shiro falls into the persistent beckon without struggle, crawling up the line of Lance’s body and fitting himself between his parted thighs like he _belonged_ there.

The alpha in him grows restless, pacing the inner parts of his subconscious and gnawing at his inhibitions. He can feel the tug of Lance’s connection, the way the man opens himself, making his mind vulnerable to Shiro’s prodding. And the influx of _love, love, love_ , that pours out nearly knocks him on his ass.

Shiro gasps, hands coming up to cup Lance’s face gently, and his omega cries silently, eyes squeezed shut as years of suppressed emotion and desires spilled out into the open. Each declaration addressed to _Shiro_ , _Shiro, Shiro_.

And Shiro tries to keep up. Tries to match Lance’s admissions with one’s he’s trampled down for so long now, but he’s outmatched.

Lance’s love for him is unparalleled.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” he groans.

 _You win_.

Shiro doesn't wait to act this time. Lance had waited too damn long at the expense of his own suffering just for Shiro to make him wait again, so, no. Shiro won’t do that to him this time.

Lance deserved his _everything._

The sharp gasp of surprise that Lance feeds him when they kiss isn’t something Shiro’s ready for. How out of his mind with _want_ he is as he swallows around the moan that vibrates pleasantly against his tongue and sends the omega melting into the mattress with a sigh. The ridges of Lance’s knees dig low at Shiro’s hips, effectively pinning him in place as Lance’s fingers scratched ecstasy along his buzzed nape and braced there. Held him steady.

And heat, silken and wet, trace the outsides of Shiro’s lips, pressing insistently into the seam and exploring enthusiastically the second Shiro relents; his own tongue sliding readily against Lance’s own.

He tries to keep control of the situation, of his overeager inner alpha determined to grope Lance anywhere and _everywhere_ should Shiro let his guard down. But Lance is a force of _nature_.

His hands, a threat level six.

He arches up into Shiro so easily, nails promising an exquisite sting without the barrier of a shirt to stop them. And Shiro feels his restraint waver just the slightest, when Lance rubs against him. Pulls him impossibly close and moans low and throaty for Shiro to feel.

To _taste._

Shiro’s eyes flash, teeth digging sharp into Lance’s lower lip in subtle warning before he reared back, gripped tight at Lance’s waist and practically tossed him half up the bed where he landed with a yelp. The springs of his mattress whine in protest but Shiro couldn’t give a fuck as he stalked up the length of Lance’s splayed legs and laid him flat. Dove straight for his throat and laved along his scent gland like his damn life depended on it.

Lance’s hands spasmed at Shiro’s shoulders, head tipped back on another thready moan that makes Shiro shudder against him, _into_ him, as he jolted and chirped.

“S-Shiro,” Lance gasped. “Shiro, st— _ah. Ah_! W-wait— _ngh_. Shiro, _fuck_.”

Lance felt his eyes roll, that same heavy feeling clouding his thoughts as his omega cried out happily. Encouraged Shiro on with a restless chant of _do it, do it, do it._

 ** _Bite_** **_me._**

**_Mate me._ **

**_Breed me._ **

Shiro reared back.

And while Lance is overwhelmingly grateful, he can’t help the nagging disappointment deep in his gut and the cold shock of surprise that comes with it because _Shiro pulled back._

Back and away, even _when_ Lance tightens the grip he has on the man’s collar and lets his eyes flutter as the alpha took to nuzzling at his throat with a cautionary inhale.

“Sorry,” Shiro strained, so low that Lance almost misses it with their harsh breathing.

“You okay?” He pants in lieu of a reply.

Shiro rose up a bit, flushed to the tips of his ears, and pressed a chaste kiss to Lance’s cheek; a means to settle him before he smiled weakly. “I'm good. Just been an exciting day is all.”

“Exciting is an understatement,” Lance laughs, and Shiro finds himself a participant as he pressed another kiss below his omegas ear. Trailed another across his cheek, along his nose, before settling gingerly at Lance’s mouth.

The urgency is gone, his wolf content for what they’ve accomplished today, and Lance moves languidly against him one last time before they pulled apart gasping.

“Sleep with me?” Lance asks.

And Shiro nods, an eager _yes,_ before letting Lance out from under him and crossing the short distance from bed to door.

Realistically, Shiro knows they won’t do anything more tonight. Not when it’s this early in the courting stage. But the idea of the omega allowing him into _his_ nest, his most private and salient of places, had his alpha stuffed to the gills with self-confidence.

His ego was thriving.

And right as Shiro was about to seal him and his omega off from the rest of the pack, create a sharedprivacy he’s only ever dreamed of, he feels himself hesitate; fingers held fast against the doorknob as he cocked his head attentively and listened throughout the rest of the house with a frown. Because he could’ve swore he’d heard—

“Shiro?”

Shiro looked back, pausing for just a second more, before he let the door swing shut behind him.

Must’ve been his imagination...

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! Quick apology for the long wait. Life got busy on both our ends and we had some last minute editing to do. But we're back with a long ass update that will hopefully make up for the silence! We're steadily trying to build up extra chapters to keep ahead of the updates, so we've spent a lot of time writing ahead so we have some cushion. Thank you all so much for your patience! We hope you liked it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3!

* * *

With the full moon just a day away, the rest of Lance’s too short weekend was efficiently spent trying to help Shiro fit in one last training session to get the rest of them working on their bonds. Shiro had wanted to squeeze in two, more for Keith’s education than to keep consistent with routine, but Lance had stealthily occupied the better part of the man’s bright and early morning, and time had unceremoniously gotten away from the alpha.

A pity.

The days choice of activity though made up for the schemed lull in action by being one of their all time favorites. A variation of capture the flag, only, instead of trying to capture thin ribbons and awkward footballs, they were all trying to capture Shiro.

It was the epitome of fun and games; merely a child’s version of what was to be expected come time for the actual full moon. But the rules were similar, and the tactics damn near identical to an actual hunt—more or less—so Shiro, at Lance’s encouragement, had felt confident enough that Keith would be able to pick up the slack in no time.

Even if the sad truth was they had never been able to successfully, and consecutively, catch the alpha off guard enough to take him down; usually outsmarted or played to cross into one another’s charge before they could calculate his serpentine in time.

Of course, that was _before_ they had Keith on their side. And Shiro had felt confident enough in the odds to issue a challenge: pull it together four against one and actually _beat_ him this time, or lose (again) despite said odds, and enjoy rotating through dish duty without the added help of their alpha taking on his usual Friday.

Keith had liked those odds. Liked the challenge even _more so_ , it seemed, now that it  gave him something to fight for. Even riled him up to the point of posturing, and made an explicit show of putting himself between Lance and Shiro to throw the alpha off his game. 

He flashed Lance a knowing smirk, looked back at Shiro pointedly, and Lance was beginning to think they might actually have a shot at winning this thing.

Because Keith was _fast_.

Focused.

The alpha always willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his team should it be him taking the brunt of Shiro’s tackle, or the fall when Pidge accidentally tripped into him. He was working Shiro more than his other packmates had done _combined._

Really, it’s a thrill.

They’d been at it for over an hour with no success, but they were steadily getting closer, Lance could practically taste it.

Laces had been double tied in haste, trying for better traction, and shirts had been discarded somewhere forever ago when it appeared they’d be here a minute. Even Pidge, who gave a stink-eye to anyone who dared to say anything, had tossed her jacket off into the rejects, standing proud in her sports bra, and tied her hair back with a huff. Game face; secured. Ass kicking; ready.

“We can do this,” she panted. “He’s _just_ one guy for fucks sake.”

“Katie.”

Shiro scolded the girl distantly and tucked his shirt into the back pocket of his sweats. His very nice, _form fitting,_ sweats, that Lance had been actively drinking in with lingering rakes of his eyes any opportunity he got. Even looks up from the alpha’s ass... _ets_ and catches Shiro’s knowing grin with an appalled gasp.

Oh, goddammit. The bastard wore them on _purpose_.

A streak of orange suddenly snagged Lance’s attention, drawing his focus back towards Hunk, who’d managed a good twenty yards on Shiro and was gaining.

 _Rapidly_.

He and Keith had managed to corner the man, taking turns moving in for punches and kicks that forced their head alpha to duck and dodge rather than twist and dip to keep himself out of drop range.

Pidge used the distraction to dart up from behind, a well aimed foot caving the back of Shiro’s right leg in, and she manages to drop Shiro to an unstable knee before she was hastily shoved back; deflected.

Keith’s next punch doesn’t land, and Shiro uses the swing of support to pull himself upright and throw the alpha into Hunk who stumbles back, but doesn’t fall. He was outnumbered here, but that didn’t necessarily mean they had the advantage. As long as Shiro kept an eye on Pidge, and he did, he could fend off Keith and Hunk no problem.

He won’t even break a sweat.

Hunk charged him from the right, and Keith went in for Shiro’s left to try and overwhelm him. Shiro was keeping a good distance, but having Pidge behind him was proving difficult to manage and Lance was—

 _Lance_.

Shiro went to spin around. He hadn’t seen Lance since Hunk and Keith changed tactics and the omega was one to look out for. One to keep tabs on. Where—

Keith launched himself past Hunk and drove both feet into Shiro’s lower back hard enough to send the alpha pinwheeling forward in a fight for balance. He nearly eats shit too, if not for Pidge who barrels a shoulder into his lower abdomen and reaches back in hopes that the element of surprise will get her the goal. But Shiro seizes her hand and twists, tossing Pidge to the floor like she weighs nothing and bracing just in time to dodge Hunk’s incoming kick and Keith’s deadly thighs. 

That’s when Lance sees his opening.

_Gotcha._

Lance moved in for the kill, stature low but movements fluid as he crept into Shiro’s blind spot and used Keith’s speed to his advantage. The alpha was darting opposite of Lance, keeping Shiro’s eyes on him and Hunk and steering his attention towards what their next moves would be. And Lance’s fingers were _just_ inches away from the shirt, the fabric barely brushing at his fingertips, when Shiro’s hackles raised defensively— _danger—_ and he unconsciously kicked his leg up into a thoughtless roundhouse.

It comes as a blur. Lance is far too close to brace for it. And by the time he sees the incoming shoe, a short, _oh shit_ , cutting through the adrenaline of his success, all he can think to do is close his eyes and wait for the crushing blow to his jaw that…

Surprisingly never comes.

Because someone grabs him. Quick and purposeful, before a warm barrier looms up and over him in a protective shield that takes the brunt of a sickening crack, but doesn’t stop a blunt edge from sending Lance toppling to the ground; stunned.

Keith was panting, cradling his wrist gingerly, but he leaned over Lance’s prone body anyway and refused to move once he was there. Stared down at Lance with a heated look in his eyes as the world around them smeared into something muddled and discombobulated.

Lance realized he couldn’t hear anything, the sound of his heartbeat too great in his ears, but he could see Keith’s flushed face as if it were in high definition. The alpha’s inviting lips less than a foot away. And Lance suddenly felt a wave of _want_ and _longing_. Could smell it in the sweat of his skin as he swallowed thickly and breathed in Keith’s scent so unlike Shiro’s, but still wildly the same in the way it _gets_ to him.

 _Stop,_  Lance warned his omega frantically.

And just like that, a pained expression came over Keith’s face.

The alpha leaned back, no voice of complaint under Shiro’s panicked hands as he tried to inspect the injury, and Lance stayed silent in his own right when Hunk crouched down to help sit him up, lips forming words that didn’t quite click in Lance’s head as he stared at his feet distantly.

Pidge ended up being the one that herded them all inside, already going for the first aid kit that couldn’t seem to catch a break with all the injuries the household came back with. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been, but they all hover around Keith nonetheless as the girl tended to him with practiced ease and rattled off something high pitched and staticky.

Lance shook his head, smacked at his temple a bit. Eventually worked his jaw enough that his hearing returned, like a lense coming into focus, and the dizziness disappeared.

Must be the vertigo.

“...one care to explain what happened?” Pidge looked at them all from behind her thick lenses, slowing her prodding when Keith winced some, and since Lance was still trying to process how he got inside in the first place, it’s Shiro who steps up.

The alpha sighed, shuffled back a bit to give Pidge some room, and stared at Keith’s already bruising forearm with a look of distress.

“It’s my fault,” he winced. “I didn’t expect anyone to get in that close and I just reacted. Keith, he—he tried to stop the blow and I think I broke his wrist.”

“Then how did Lance get hit?”

Shiro looked up at Hunk, then at Lance as if he hadn’t realized they were standing so near, and blinked like the question wasn’t clicking. The words _Lance_ and _hit_ , an alien combination in this scenario.

But then Keith grunted from his side of the couch, “I forgot how long Shiro’s legs are,” and shrugged. “Thought I put my arm out far enough, but his heel still got him the head. Sorry about that, by the way.” Keith hissed. “Looks like it was a double fail.”

“Try triple,” Pidge muttered. “Did you also forget how strong Shiro is? You were crazy to think you could stop a blow like that. Lucky he didn’t do anything _worse_.”

Keith stuck his tongue out at Pidge and laughed with a grunt of pain when the girl jostled his arm a little too rough to not be of some punishment.

And Lance feels, no matter the current state of the situation, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Keith’s eyes, always burning with passion, expressive eyebrows, high cheekbones. A delicate-looking face that could break yours without breaking a swear. Lance had seen the alpha at his absolute worst, and having him like he was now? Healthy, happy, _alive_. It was an omegas greatest accomplishment.

Keith was something Lance was _proud_ of.

The alpha’s body, though lean, was powerful. Deceptive in its strength. Muscle hid itself well beneath his porcelain skin, but when it showed itself. It was hard to deny that werewolf looked good on him.

Amazing even.

Smelled even better.

 _Woah_. Lance reached out to steady himself, his knees feeling suddenly unreliable in their strength as his foot gave and he stumbled forward a bit. He manages to catch the edge of their ottoman, the trinkets within clanging at the sudden movement, and Hunk steps towards him with a soft sound of concern as the dizzy spell—that’s what it is, a dizzy spell—runs its course.

_What the hell is coming over me?_

Shiro had _just_ started to court him. Gorgeous, beautiful, Shiro with an even _more_ attractive personality. Lance risks a look up. Up at their alpha hunched in on himself, trying to appear small, but failing miserably in his miserableness. His muscles bulge out from under the gray cotton t-shirt that had so rudely found its way on Shiro’s body again, obstructing any views of his broad chest that Lance was determined to get acquainted with, as he crossed his arms protectively, and scent a wave of _apology_ , _guilt_ , and _comfort_ Keith’s way. Ultimately ends up submerging the damn room in his scent, and Lance feels like he could get high off the—

Wait a minute.

 **_Alpha_** _..._ his omega squirms.

And suddenly it all made sense.

“Oh, _fuck_ me.”

Three sets of eyes turned on him, wide with affront, and Hunk asks, “What was that,” looking far more concerned than he had been minutes prior as Lance used the support he had on the ottoman to sag against it.

“I—I think I might be going into heat.”

Which wasn’t true because Lance was _definitely_ going into heat, and it wasn’t anywhere _near_ his time, yet.

“Wait,” Shiro blurted. Bolted upright flushed to the tips of his ears as he fisted the air at his sides. “Right now? You’re going into—right now?” Shiro looked around feverishly. “We need supplies. We didn’t shop this month, Hunk. I didn’t—”

“Shiro, calm down,” Hunk sighed. “None of that’s necessary. Lance is probably just reacting to your courtship and the full moon’s messing with that. I bet it’s just his wolf trying to get ready for tomorrow.”

Lance flashed Hunk a grateful look, one his friend returned with an apologetic smile, because he’d rather have a conversation like this in private, but Shiro looked damn near feral.

“So I guess there won’t be anyone fucking you, Lance.” Pidge quipped, always with the sass. “Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s not what I meant, Pidge.” Lance bristled. “ _Ugh_ , I just hope it doesn’t interfere with the hunt.”

Because the _last_ thing Lance wanted to take credit for was the ruination of Keith’s first full moon with them. It was already a hard enough experience being so newly turned, and having Lance’s crazy pheromones would inevitably make things worse.

“It should correct itself once the full moon is over,” Hunk explained sympathetically. “But that also means—”

“It’s going to kickstart once the full moon is over.” Lance tossed his head back and groaned. Frowned at Hunk’s, “Sorry, buddy,” and moved to follow Hunk towards the loveseat.

It wouldn’t be the first time Lance experienced a heat with his pack. This would actually be his seventh cycle, ninth if being away at his parents house counted when he’d been too nervous to share the new space. And Hunk had been there for at least twenty of them during their time living together on their own, so he’d at least had that familiarity.

But sharing his heats with not one, but two alpha’s, one being freshly turned, and the other actively courting him, was like his first heat all over again.

Would Shiro help him through it this time? Would he just switch off standing guard outside his door with Hunk like usual?

How would Keith being around affect them? Affect _him_?

Lance wasn’t entirely sure, but he could tell the same feedback loop of concerns were listing off in Shiro’s head when the alpha sank down beside Keith and glanced in Lance’s general direction with a cough.

“I think it’d be best if we…have that conversation for when the time comes,” Shiro stated politely. “As for the hunt, I wanted to speak to you all as a group for what’s to be expected during the full moon tomorrow. Especially now that Keith is with us.”

Pidge nodded absently, quick to clean up what little could help Keith, and shoved a pain reliever into his hand with a weak half-smile. “It’s the most I can do. Just gonna have to wait out your healing factor like usual. This should take the edge off though.” Pidge looked to Shiro, who returned her shrug of helplessness with a grateful nod of thanks, before settling back in her own respective seat and allowing the conversation to proceed.

“Out of respect for Keith in his injuries, I want to make it clear that this hunt is not a competition.”

Hunks lips parted, wanting to object, and sagged with a pout when Shiro held up a knowing finger.

“I know we have game of the night, but Keith is still adjusting. I don’t want his first hunt to end poorly because his wolf drove him too hard trying to match your head count Hunk. This will be a team effort. Meaning, no running off with Pidge, Lance. No stalking mountain lions, Hunk. And no mocking either of them when they inevitably run into something, Pidge. Do I make myself clear?”

Lance nodded, sounding only a little put out when he said, “Yes, alpha,” to which Pidge and Hunk immediately echoed with similar energy. And Shiro had the heart to look apologetic, knowing just how much his pack enjoyed their little activities. But Keith was with them now. And making sure they were all safe was still a priority.

“You all know when you need to be home tomorrow,” Shiro said dutifully. “I’ll make sure I clock out early so that I can ensure you’re all here on time before the full moon is upon us. After that, Pidge, Keith. Both of you will have as much time as you need to transform, if we even get to that point in Pidge’s case. I’m afraid you don’t have much of choice, Keith.”

“I understand,” Keith said quietly. “I’ll try to make it easy for all of you.”

“That’s not what we mean,” Lance interjected before Shiro could. He flashed the alpha a careful look, _I got this_ , and made sure to soften his gaze when Keith looked at him questioningly. “We’re going to give you all the time you need to make this transformation as smooth as possible, Keith. There’s no reason for you to feel rushed. I—um. _We_ , don’t want you to hurt yourself on our account. That would be stupid.”

“Really stupid,” Hunk seconded. “We’re here to make you comfortable, not worse, man.”

Pidge nodded. “Exactly.”

And after a few moments of yawning silence, Keith staring blankly at the coffee table before him, the alpha finally blinked, lips upturned in a shy smile before he looked at each of them. “O-okay,” he murmured. Looked at Lance and said, “Thanks.”

Lance smiled, “Of course,” and glanced at Shiro with an eager look because that right there. That was progress.

And maybe it’s his scent. The underlying warmth of pre-heat making his pack more susceptible to his persuasion. Either way, Lance takes the cohesion as a win and feels a pang of excitement when Shiro looks on at him in fond wonder.

An omega to be proud of, he was.

Shiro uses the break in conversation to finish up, explaining the rest of the hunt to Keith with the help of the others when he needed it. They would shift whether they liked it or not, affected by the pull of the moon until day break when they would wander back to the pack house and count their game. Hunk warns Keith in advanced, “I take these hunts pretty seriously,” and laughs when Keith’s expression twists with unease.

“He means he has a size kink,” Lance says unabashedly. And when Hunk goes red faced, smacking frantically at Lance’s shoulder, the omega quickly reiterates, “He likes his prey _big_ ,” and cries out when Hunk has the nerve to shove him.

“You couldn’t have started with that!?” Hunk hisses.

Pidge just barks out a laugh and falls into a fit of giggles when Shiro tries to calm them. Tries to get them back on track because this was actually important.

He tells Keith not to worry, that his wolf will fall into place quite quickly and enjoy the thrill of hunting in his new pack. And he promises to keep an organization to the whole ordeal. “I’ll make sure everybody stays in alignment, but if at any point you start to feel uneasy, just stick close to me. I won’t leave you on your own.”

Keith expression shuddered suddenly, there and gone in a matter of seconds, and Lance could swear he catches a sour note to the man’s scent before the alpha was standing. Saying his thanks to all of them, and moving towards the staircase with a flimsy excuse for the bathroom.

“Wait, Keith—” Lance moved to get up, hoping to find some sort of explanation as to why the man had changed moods so quickly, but by the time he’s standing, hand outstretched in what could only be concern.

Keith is already gone.

* * *

The day of the full moon had always been attributed to a certain rise in anticipation; the primal urge to shift targeting open pockets within stiff joints and rooting a tension that was just begging to be unleashed, deep into the marrow where the feeling had a tendency to burrow. Set a nagging itch underneath the skin that, if left unattended, would fester into something glaringly apparent, and tip the scale from tolerably uncomfortable, to teetering aggression.

For someone as experienced as Shiro, it only took a few minutes of stretching and frequent walks around the office to take the edge off the worst of it. He’d roll his shoulders, listen to the self-satisfying cracks as bone ground against bone, and he’d arch his spine over the tipping edge of his desk chair with a throaty grunt as co-workers walking by looked on in sympathy.

“Full moon?” Some would ask on his third trek around the office. And Shiro would give them a short, polite smile, with a, _what can you do_ , sort of look that had his shoulder rolling up in a half shrug, before he finished his latest round and returned to his seat with an assiduous rub of his temple.

Days like this were always hardest to concentrate; experienced or not with the effects of the moon. Words didn’t stick, motivation tanked, and concentration was damn near non-existent with the way his inner wolf paced. Restless in it’s own skin as the nearing of the hunt taunted him from a distance.

It was no wonder they were short staff today.

Over seventy percent of the building had checked out.

Shiro glanced at the countless number of empty seats beyond his glass containment; a visible headcount of FLI employees taking advantage of the full moon’s paid leave, and he can’t help the sudden surge of antsiness that starts up in the tips of his toes, and steadily works its way along his forearms until he was flexing his fingers out of habit.

Stops, only when Iverson raps his knuckles along the open slab of glass before him unceremoniously.

“Come in,” Shiro waves.

The alpha nudged the door open, conscious enough to push it shut with the heel of his boot as he met Shiro’s steel rod posture with a gesture of his own and motioned for him to sit down. Does so himself with a throaty grunt that gives way to his age as Shiro sank back in his seat and mimicked the weary look almost perfectly.

They share a moment. A lighthearted understanding going unsaid between them, alpha between alpha, before Iverson looked about his desk in half hearted disapproval.

He sighs. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Shirogane but as your boss, you know I have to say it.”

This is purley business, his eyes disclose. And Shiro nods, _go ahead_ , even though an age old argument already waits on standby at the tip of his tongue.

Iverson frowns, knowing, but carries on in a dreary tone nonetheless. “As much as I love your work ethic and having the extra hands around to help close up shop, there’s a reason why we send all of you home the night before the full moon.” Iverson pushed his knuckles up under his jaw, using the arm of the chair as a means of support, and pressed his lips into a grim line as he tried to fluctuate his tone into something as light as the scolding would allow him. Though it doesn't change much when he stresses, “You need the extra _time_ , Takashi. The comfort of your pack. I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this, but you need to go the fuck home. Take the day off.” An intentional beat. “ _Relax._ ”

“You of all people should know I don’t _relax,”_  Shiro said with the tiniest of smiles, and Iverson made a sound of disgust. Threw his hands up in ratcheting disbelief, eyes narrowed in a fighting glare as he countered, “You of all people should know I don’t like bullshit.”

_Touché._

“Now, are you going to leave peacefully like I asked you to or do I have to call security again to wrangle your ass outta here like last time.”

Shiro winced at the memory, tried to hide it with another sheepish smile, and rolled back in his chair so he was within grabbing reach of his printer. “I’ll be leaving on my own, sir,” Shiro admitted with a low laugh. “I just needed to finish up a few things.”

Things being the endless mounds of paperwork and unopened court files that had begun to accumulate on his usually clean tabletop after weeks of blissful ignorance. It hadn’t been his intentions to leave the assignments for as long as he had, but with the all the instability happening back home and the paperwork that came with having a new addition to his pack, it was easier to keep putting off his upcoming deadlines than face the matters head on. So he’d spent what should’ve been a paid day off, trying to tackle the collecting mess of responsibility that had overtaken his office space, in an effort to organize the scattered spreadsheets lying about from urgent to not.

Assignments that were time sensitive were swiftly taken care of, and those that could wait were hastily shoved away in his filing cabinet as he tried to stave off the peeking suspense making itself known in the rush of his movements.

And believe it or not, there was a reason for all of that. Shiro’s sudden lack of composure. Usually, Shiro would spend no more than an hour or two on the night of the full moon adjusting his deadlines, calling into superiors and talking to Iverson to make sure he was clear to be a little late should his hunt run a bit longer with his pack. He’d stop and get lunch for everyone on his way home, be dressed and ready by mid afternoon, and make sure his pack was in performing shape for the next twelve hours to come.

But that was only when Shiro needed a day’s worth of reprieve, not a weeks worth. He needed longer prep time, a well prepared excuse for yet another stretch of absence where he would be physically unavailable for anything and everything work or work related. Because in hindsight, the full moon was one thing. Having _Keith_ around, was one thing. And Shiro had no doubt in his mind that he could, and would, juggle both of those easily enough with his work. Even _if_ he might fall behind a bit here and there.

But _Lance_ , with his soft touches and legs that went on for _miles_ , was about to go into heat. Lance was _currently_ going into heat. In less than forty-eight hours, too boot.

And that realization right there had kicked his alpha into high gear, set a fire under Shiro’s ass that spurred him into getting his work done and getting it done _now_. That way, when the time came for Lance to succumb to his heat, Shiro would be ready to jump in without any lingering concerns, should Lance feel comfortable enough to ask him to share the intimate event with him, of course.

They were courting, after all.

“So that’s what this is about,” Iverson grumbled. “Finally ready to settle down, huh, Shirogane? And with an omega, no less. How did _that_ happen?”

It’s more Iverson musing aloud than it is a direct question, but the comment makes Shiro flush nonetheless as he looked down at his lap and nibbled the plump edge of his lower lip. Tried not to go completely pink when his boss barked out a sympathetic laugh.

“I’m just fucking witcha’, Takashi,” he reassured heartily. And Shiro had to resist the full body flinch that rocked him when Iverson was suddenly at his side, clapping him on the shoulder and leaning against his desktop with an eager glint in his eye. “So, who’s the lucky lady? It’s been a while since I last heard you went on a date, and I damn sure haven’t seen any of the omegas around here flaunting your scent like a trophy. Is it someone from HR?”

Shiro snorted, “God, no,” and debated whether going into details would be a good idea given the newness of it all.

But then again…

It takes a minute, but soon all of Shiro’s desperate rifling pays off when he manages to dig up a leather worn picture of Lance and him. Back when they were still learning to interact with one another. Lance and Hunk had been newly accepted into his pack, and Shiro could always see the underlying sort of discomfort in the pull of Lance’s smile when he looked back on it, the flash of teeth not nearly as bright as he learned it could be, and further adding to the awkwardness of the omega’s hunched shoulders where he’d tried to lean away from Shiro in the picture. It was amazing how far they’d come in such short span of time, and though the memory had a tendency to tug at his heartstrings a bit, Shiro cherished the snapshot of history all the same.

“He?” Iverson perks up, reaching out to take the offered photo with fingers hesitating for permission, and Shiro feels another blush descend on him as he nodded.

“My omega,” he explains, putting emphasis on the ‘my’ so not to be misconstrued. “He’s been here a few times to put in job applications. Lance McClain?”

“Oh, I know who he is,” Iverson said darkly. “That little shit tried to tell me he was a new hire. Took me half the fucking day to realize he’d done nothing but antagonize all the alpha’s around the office.” He quirked a cautious brow. “You sure about him, Takashi?”

Iverson handed back the photo, and Shiro took it with a secretive smile and a little bit of guilt knowing he’d been the one to put Lance up to such a stunt in the first place. Actually had some pretty hefty bets going on with the beta’s working nearby to see just how long the man could last before Iverson noticed his antics. Half a day was a record.

And Shiro had been stupidly proud.

He pushes the picture back into his wallet and remembers Iverson had asked him a question. Not one that’s meant to offend, but one that pokes fun at the omega’s well rounded immaturity and complete opposite personality traits that one would think would clash with Shiro’s hardcore exterior. But Shiro loved that about Lance. He loved _him_.

So, yes.

“I think I’m pretty sure about him.”

Iverson eyed him, quite literally, before his uptight posture went slack, and he was letting out a gentle sigh that earned Shiro another clap on the shoulder. “Well, congratulations, Takashi. He’ll be good for you. Keep you in check in ways that I can’t, yeah?”

“Like he doesn’t already,” Shiro joked lightly, and the look Iverson gave him was warm.

He’d been trying to get Shiro out there for as long as he could remember, always preaching about the perks of having a mate and flaunting his own bond mark any time he saw the opportunity. Something like this was sure to make the man proud, and if fulfilling a lifelong dream of Shiro’s did that, then he’d happily let the man boast about his private life come their next meeting.

“Alright, then,” Iverson announced. The alpha pushed off his desk and turned to wait as Shiro shot to his feet, before holding out his hand and shaking Shiro’s own with a firm grip. “You get home to your mate on time, okay? You got a big night ahead of you.”

Shiro gave a parting pat to Iverson’s shoulder blade and nodded, “Yes, sir,” before pulling away and seeing his boss out. He’s approaching twelve in the afternoon as it was, any longer and Hunk was sure to be up in arms by the time he got home. So he shuts down his computer, shoves his laptop in his bag, and follows behind Iverson as he goes through shutting off any stray lights that may have been forgotten the previous morning.

“Did you call in a heat kit for this month, Shirogane?”

Shiro jerked up from where he was riffling for his keys, and looked over the line of cubicles where Iverson was watching him idly. He was waiting for the elevator, and Shiro paused by his own respective escape route in stunned silence as the man shrugged.

“You requested the next week off. Figured it was…personal.”

Nonchalance evades him, and in its place, comes a rush of heat that has a tendency to fixate on the bridge of his nose and accompanying cheekbones. He knows this because Lance had proceeded to kiss along the color anytime he got close enough. Pull Shiro in by his belt loops, and work the man over until not a single inch of skin was left out by the tint.

He flushes harder—dammit. And Iverson merely quirked a brow as the elevator doors opened to his left, and Shiro continued to sputter uselessly.

“I’ll put in an order with HR,” the alpha called. “Just have your beta pick it up by Monday.”

And before Shiro could choke out a grateful, _thank you_ ; prove to his boss, and _himself_ , that he wasn’t completely whipped like he was making himself out to be, the man was already waving his goodbye.

_Patience yields—_

* * *

 “ _Focus!_ ”

The word gnashes out of Pidge’s mouth on a snarl, her small hands coming up to smoosh Lance’s cheeks together in a fit of frustration, and she didn’t once let up until the man’s face had contorted into that of a dramatic pucker and a narrow of his accusatory blue eyes. She shakes him, rather violently too, and the groan Lance emits sounds more like a disgruntled wheeze than anything else, as he sagged his weight into the assaulting grip and ignored the audible squelch of mud that had his knees sinking into the ground.

He let his arms go slack at his sides. “I _can’t_ ,” Lance whined. And for the most part, he was telling the truth. “My senses are _fried_ , Pidge. They’re useless. I’m no better than the average human and I’m dragging you two down.” Lance flapped an arm out in any direction he saw fit and moaned, “Just go on without me,” with a valiant grimace of woe that would undoubtedly seal the deal.

If not for Keith.

The traitorous prick.

He’d been observing the odd interaction for at least ten minutes now, scoffing this way, huffing that, and Pidge, on the verge of mimicking her own disbelief, shared a roll of her eyes with the man as the omegas play finally concluded.

Then proceeded to crash and burn in the lack of sympathy.

He was losing them.

“You and I both know you’re just trying to get out of training,” Pidge hammered; hitting the nail right on the head with an almost audible _thwack._

And Lance pouts, _nu-uh_ , trying to hold out for just a moment longer as he threw a look at Keith and cut a hand his way in defense. “ _He’s_ the one that needs to learn this crap. I just don’t get why I have to spend my precious prep time stretching and doing drills and running laps through the middle of the goddamn forest when it has nothing to do with my abilities.”

“I thought you _liked_ running laps through the middle of the goddamn forest,” Keith countered, brow arched to goad.

And Lance flushed. Batted at Pidge’s hands with an indignant huff, before glaring up at the alpha mightily. “That’s not the point,” he argued.

Keith was still stuck trying to figure out what _was,_ and he’s silently grateful Lance kind was kind enough to break it down.

“We’ve been out here, for two whole hours, doing lap after lap, and you _still_ haven’t memorized the trailheads, or the markers, or the scents we’ve laid down not just once, by the way, but six, _flipping,_ times, and I’m just—”

Lance suddenly broke off, tilting his head back with a pinched look of agony, and let his lips part open to release the string of pitched whines that started soft in their debut, but gradually began to increase in octave as he went on.

And on.

And on.

Crying until Pidge was rising exasperated to her feet, hands flailing about in fluster, and glaring off into the distance for the inevitable concern that would come rushing through the treeline as a result of Lance’s endeavors.

Keith, though, had managed to stay silent for the entirety of the display, only raising his brow further in question when Lance refused to break off, and turning to Pidge for answers when his anxiety got the best of him.

“It’s his pre-heat,” Pidge explained hastily, and when Lance grew louder, as if he were purposefully needling at the girl, Pidge shot him a vengeful look and leaned in with a bite to her words that grit, “Sometimes it makes him a world class _bitch_!”

Lance quieted suddenly, and Keith wasn’t sure if it was because the omega was shocked or gearing up for an even bigger meltdown, as he blinked at Pidge. Pressed his lips into an even deeper frown, and braced his hands on the curvature of his knees so he could lean in and thrust a pink tongue out at Pidge aggressively.

She gasped.

“Why you little—”

It’s probably a good thing that Shiro emerges when he does, because what starts out as a manifesting uppercut, courtesy of Katie, quickly de-escalates into that of a sharp shove that hits Lance square in the chest and saves him the trip to urgent care.

Shiro has to do a double take. “What’s happening?”

Hunk, who had been panting raggedly off to Shiro’s left, managed a tight, “Yeah,” in the preceding silence, and slumped down to brace at his thighs with a thin exhale of air. “Why’d you guys— _wheeze_ —stop? We could’ve lost you oh holy shit.” Hunk let out a throaty hack, and Shiro and Keith watched on in concerned silence as the man held up a finger, _gimme a sec,_  and spat. “I really need to work on my cardio,” he huffed. “Hold on—”

“Just sit down, Hunk,” Shiro said briskly, and Hunk immediately dropped. Muttered something about a cramp in his calf and went at it with more aggression than Shiro had ever seen in the man, but he’d save that discovery for later.

Right now, he needed to step in before Pidge up and murdered his mate.

“Tell me what happened?”

Shiro aimed the question towards Keith’s general presence of indifference, and watched as the words physically struggled to carry over the magnitude of Lance’s wailing, which, mind you, had not at all been helped by Pidge’s own fed up ranting as the teen raised her voice over Lance’s own, then vice versa, and vice versa. Until Shiro was wincing at the grappling pitches and leaning in close so Keith could cup a hand around his ear and relay the information clearly.

“Lance started complaining about his back about a mile into our seventh set and stopped all of the sudden. We tried to get him up, but he keeps trying to fight us, and now he won’t stop doing whatever… _this_ is.” Keith swept a hand over the scene in grand gesture, and Shiro nodded, “ _Ah_ ,” with a calculating look, before tipping his head in appreciation and approaching the dumpster fire that was his pack mates.

Which, when Keith thought about it, must be a regular occurrence—that or the alpha was just so far gone in terms of getting worked up that not even this phased him anymore—because Shiro just stepped between the two, effectively cutting off Pidge’s colorful threats in the process of his separation, and thanked her with a dismissive smile as he leaned down to grab at where Lance was sulking at his feet. All glassy blue eyes and indignant pouts.

He whimpers; petulant. His earlier groans snuffing out in the juncture of Shiro’s pale throat, as his arms that were noticeably lifeless before, hooked tight over the alpha’s shoulders and allowed for Shiro to hold him at the waist and support all of his weight without a huff of exertion to show for it.

He pets him, “Lance,” and the tone of voice, something gentle but scolding all the same, has the omega standing a little taller at attention, a little more accountable for his behavior, but burrowing that much deeper into Shiro’s own physique, like he could physically disappear within the alpha as he silently refused the prompt.

Shiro sighed again, sounding a bit more exasperated this time around, and from where Keith was standing, he could see the sound of disappointment had made the omega go rigid. Breathing shallow as he scented the air around him and sifted through _annoyance_ : Pidge, _tired_ : Hunk, and Keith’s own vexation, before finding the subtle note of _fondness_ and _affection_ from Shiro, that was not so easily concealed at such a close distance.

Even _if_ the alpha was trying to mask it with reprimand.

“I guess we’ll stop here for today,” Shiro announced despondently. He took a moment to heave Lance up into his arms with a little more conviction, and he adjusted him accordingly until the omega was tucked safely against him. Couldn’t help tutting low under his breath when Lance had the nerve, and the so called ‘lack of energy’, to wrap his legs about Shiro’s waist without any sort of prompt on his part and sigh contently.

The little cheat.

It’s not an ideal interruption, but Shiro can see when his pack was due for a breather, and judging from Hunks waning stamina and Keith’s growing impatience, no good would come from forcing another strenuous round. So he regroups. Figures, and hopes, that Keith was still the fast learner he always was back in high school, and managed to pick up on the multitude of landmarks and trailheads that intercepted one another in a seemingly endless maze. He’d scented well, if not anything else. And really, that’s all any good were ever needed to find their way back to their pack.

It settled Shiro enough to call it quits. Move on.

They _were_ losing daylight as it was.

“How about we do a final round of boomerang and then call it a day?” Shiro suggested.

Pidge immediately brightened at the idea, Hunk seeming to recuperate a good amount of energy at the proposition as well because the beta was up and scrambling to his feet with a half-smile, nudging Keith heartily as he went, and rubbing his hands together in ratcheting anticipation. “Oh, hell yeah,” Hunk grinned. “Get ready to lose, Kogane.”

The objective of the exercise, despite Hunk’s current goading, wasn’t too hard in comparison to the others. All his pack had to do was spread out with the intent to get lost. Distance themselves a good ways in any direction, and try to work their way back on Shiro’s lingering scent alone. For more novice werewolf’s, like Keith, Shiro would stay put. Keep himself a flatline target to give him a chance to get the hang of it. But for the more experienced, like the rest of his pack, it was a matter of finding Shiro _first._ Hunting him down to see just how well they could make their way back in the event of separation.

It was yet another precaution Shiro had put in place after recovering from his injuries.

A perk of his residual paranoia.

_Ha._

Shiro leaned his weight back against the supportive width of a girthy oak tree and chose to ignore the damp seep of moss along the top of his ass as he made sure Lance didn’t slip in the change of angle. Then he flashed his pack a look of sympathy because even _he_ was aware that he was wasting time.

“I’ll stay here with Lance so you guys don’t have to worry about the dead weight,” Shiro says. And that earns him at least an offended huff out of Lance, but otherwise, the omega stays silent. “Keith, you’ll go with Hunk and Pidge to the half-mile point and drop her. Split up on your own for the rest of the mile distance and try to work your way back after that.”

Shiro pointed at the beta and alpha respectively, and looked to make sure the instructions were sticking. “See how quickly you can find our scent trail, Keith. But more importantly, try to get used to your wolf’s instincts as you go. _Listen_ to it. Let it help guide you without letting it control you. Okay?”

Keith doesn’t look okay. In fact, the alpha winces visibly, and Shiro is just about to tell him he doesn’t _have_ to do this, even though his own wolf desperately wanted the prep of precaution, before the man was shrugging. Sharp and determined, where Pidge was grinning at his side and shoving at his shoulder eagerly.

“C’mon, newbie.” She motioned. “Let us show you the ropes.”

Hunk fell in line behind the two quickly, bouncing back on the balls of his feet and waving them a hasty goodbye, before he jumped in on whatever conversation Pidge had started up at the front of their congregation. It’s most definitely about the last time they’d done this; how Lance had inevitably gotten himself caught in a bear trap and proceeded to fall down a hidden ravine for the duration of three days.

Shiro shuddered at the memory, trying to only half listen as Pidge continued on into the shrouded depths of forestry, and eventually determined his psyche safe enough when the conversation silenced all together.

“Are they gone?”

Lance’s voice, though muffled by Shiro’s sweatshirt, came through loud and clear, and Shiro could only roll his eyes as the omega pulled back grinning, and stared up at him in smug satisfaction.

“That was bad of you,” Shiro admonished with a biting pinch to the cleft of the man's outer thigh.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Lance leered. “I finally got you all to myself.”

Each word comes with a tip toe of Lance’s fingertips, edging up along the hidden ridge’s of Shiro’s prominent collarbone, and hooking loosely into the tied off loops pulling the material of his hood taut around his throat.

He’s bouncing. Up on the tips of his toes, and back on his heels, as he made an effort to hang off of Shiro leisurely, and smile up at him when doing so. A sweet thing that makes Shiro’s heart trip and lungs tremble in the privacy of his chest.

Though he refuses to show it.

Shiro keeps his expression stern and his eyes disapproving because at the end of the day, Lance needed to know they were training for good reason and there was only so much time he could allow for his antics. But the way Lance was beaming up at him, as if he’d just done them a huge favor out of the goodness of his heart, had all forced tension bleeding out of Shiro in the form of a well managed sigh; defeated.

“Well.” Shiro dragged his eyes up to meet Lance’s insistent stare. “You got me. So what now?”

What now?

The question was simple enough. Lance had schemed, enacted, and successfully pulled off his mission without a hitch, so yes. What now, indeed.

Only problem was, Lance had never made it past the enacting stage and, to be quite honest, he’d only really thought up until about what strategies he _could_ use to persuade the alpha, even if they never worked. But now they had, and all his earlier mischief comes to a rather unsatisfying halt because he didn’t think he’d get this far.

_Think, Lance, think._

He kneads mindlessly at Shiro’s shoulders, flexing his fingers into the muscle as a means to ground himself and hopefully spur some hidden inspiration that would help him come up with something quick. But the best he can think of in the shortening window of time is is—

“Kissing.”

_Wait—_

Shiro’s eyes flicker; immediately interested. And a rough, “Yeah?” comes rumbling out through his chest on a grave pitch that carves out a generous space deep in Lance’s belly and makes itself at home in a slosh of heat that sends him flushing, then flailing under the crashing waves of warmth as he tried desperately to stay afloat. So focused on the whole not succumbing to it part, that he doesn’t even realize he’d spent the better part of his internal stewing staring intensely at the line of Shiro’s lips until the alpha licked them.

Confidence.

The word slips slides in his mind as he tries to grasp it. Make meaning of it. Because he damn sure had the fucking thing back when he started this in the first place, and he’s not about to fumble it now. So he lunges for the fleeting idea, hoping for some semblance of authority when he does so, but only manages a breathless, “Yeah,” of confirmation that makes Shiro’s face split into a knowing grin.

“Yeah?” Shiro parrots back, practically _purring._

And Lance nods dumbly, trying not to sound dumb when he stutters, “Y-Yeah,” with a more convincing, “Yes,” that does well to make up for it. He traces the line of Shiro’s mouth with his eyes, and swallows against his nerves, wanting—

“That,” Lance breathes. “Let’s do—”

_That._

Shiro’s lips are bitten rough with worry, cracked at the center but softening just the slightest under Lance’s thoughtful ministrations when they meet. He makes sure a good amount of his own chapstick has rubbed off, much to Shiro’s own amusement, and Lance can’t help chuckling into the slick slide of the alpha’s tongue as he deepened the kiss into something intoxicating.

Drugged.

The silent audience of looming fauna whispered scandal amongst themselves, hushed only by a dying breeze, and when Lance closed his eyes, fingers wound tight in Shiro’s damp sweatshirt, he could imagine that this was what heaven felt like. Pressure points of a godly heat, lips pillowsoft and cloudlike against his own, a promise of eternal _protection_ and _love,_ making Shiro’s touch that much more addicting as he melted into him.

Lance opens to it all, accepting what air and spit Shiro has to offer in the slide of the his tongue as venturing fingers curled tight in his hair and pulled to get a deeper angle.

A _filthier_ angle.

Shiro groans, hands melding up along the alluring curvature of Lance’s spine, and he uses the distraction to spin them until it was Lance’s turn to hit flush with the backing tree trunk, and gasp into the heat of Shiro’s mouth on impact.

Oh look, he’s pinned.

What ever will he do?

Shiro groans again, a needy thing, and Lance drinks up the vibrations readily as they warmed him from the inside out. Had him reciprocating and absolutely _living_ at the rumble of approval that echoed deep within Shiro’s chest—a private sound—and struck a primal nerve within him that spurred the telltale signs of an impending gush.

Lance moans. Cants his hips up into Shiro’s own greedily, and keens whorish into the soft swip of tongue that allowed the alpha to stroke meticulously at his upper palate. Tasting him with such determination, that he’s actively setting every blood cell in Lance’s body alight like it’s _nothing_. Like he’s known Lance’s flesh far longer than just a few nights in bed, and is determined to see what tricks and hidden treasures he can uncover in their short amount of time.

He studies him.

Shiro holds Lance still with a hand gripped tight around the back of his neck. A flurry of endorphins making him weak in the knees and loose in the mind as he shivered in ratcheting ecstasy and felt his senses hone in on _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro._

He feels him, all sweltering heat and ragged breath. And when Shiro pries his lips open once again, Lance can taste the orange the alpha had earlier as if he were eating it himself. The pine is amplified, swirling into a rousing concoction with his own fight of jasmine, but there’s a sugary edge to it that’s dangerous. It _should_ be dangerous. Especially with the way Shiro’s nostrils flare when it hits him.

Shiro breaks away with a reluctant growl that Lance is only halfway through devouring, and he can’t help mourning the loss of it as it dissipated between them, unappreciated by the birds and bunnies, before dying off completely.

Such a waste, really.

But Lance is quick to get over it, quick to forget the tragedy all together when the alpha skims his lips light across his cheek, roaming down along the quiver of his jawline, and nosing at the cloying release of pheromones that greet him there.

Like a burst of incense.

The balm of it is almost overwhelming. Heightened by Lance’s pre-heat and practically screaming with fertility. Lance had always scented potent on any normal day, but it was during his heat that it was almost unbearable. Choking. A danger to almost any alpha within a ten mile radius should they ever come close to it.

 **Which they won’t because he’s ours,** his alpha preens. **Ours and no one else's.**

And with that thought comes escalation.

A surge too quick.

Shiro shoved his hands up under Lance’s shirt in a frenzy, calloused fingers lighting his omega’s already tender flesh up as he palmed and tweaked at his swollen and sore chest. He sucked gingerly at the inflamed raise in skin excreting a thickness of _jasmine_ and _sugar_ and _Lance_ along his tongue, coaxing the pheromones forward in a rush of pooling blood, until it was mixing with his own distinct pine and permeating the air in a heady hybrid.

He bites the spot timidly, testing the supple resistance against his canines as they sank a bit deeper, latched a little harder, and drew a bead of blood that had Shiro’s eyes rolling back with pleasure.

Lance arched against him, mewling, purring, trying to decide between the two as his thoughts grew muddled and trickled usesly through his fingers. He wanted the bond bite, he _wanted_ it. But that could be his heat talking. The surge of dopamine. Technically, he wasn’t _sober_.

He’s not sober.

_Bite._

Shiro laps at the exquisite flavor, savoring every second that it takes for it to melt on his tongue. And when the tang vanishes, between one moment and the next, he immediately goes in for more. Swipes along the inflamed skin and grunts when there’s nothing left to taste. So he digs in again, this time harder, and the skin gives a bit easier beneath the sharp pressure and makes Lance jolt in his arms. Spasm on a full body shiver as he cried out, then gave out, as his knees buckled.

Shiro catches him effortlessly. Thrilled at the break in skin providing him with a much more saturated taste of his omega. And his alpha is restless in the back of his mind, growling at him to stop pussy footing and take what was his.

 _What’s_ **_ours._**

He should bite. Drink his fill and satisfy them both while they’re both wanting. While they’re both alone, and high on the feeling, and Lance is anything but unwilling—

Then it hits him.

Shiro blinks, a mixture of blood and saliva rimming itself along his upper lip, and for a horrifying moment, he’s terrified he’s going to have to dislodge his teeth from Lance’s throat with a wet squelch of flesh, but he realizes it’s merely a short puncture. A dangerously close puncture, but a simple puncture nonetheless. Nothing _nearly_ permanent.

_Thank God._

Shiro pulls away like he’s been burned, careful to keep hold of Lance, who still hasn’t found his footing, but still trying to give the omega space should he start to realize what had happened and panic. He looks fatigued, suggestively tousled, and just when Shiro thinks he’s about to be one broken courtship down, Lance’s lashes flutter and reveal startlingly clear blues.

The earlier heat not quite gone, but momentarily satiated.

Shiro’s nostrils flare, “D-Did,” and he has to cut himself off to swallow around the thickness in his throat. “Did you—?”

Lance blinks slowly, as if the weight of his lids are too much to handle at the moment, before he followed Shiro’s gaze down to the wet patch growing steadily across the dark wash of his gray shorts. “Oh my God.”

It’s inappropriate, _extremely_ inappropriate, but Shiro feels his alpha preen nonetheless. Chirping in both elation and stirring frustration because he wanted nothing more than to rid Lance of those shorts right now and bend him over the goddamn—

“Shiro?”

Shiro snapped his gaze up. Lance was watching him with a glimmer of concern, maybe even a bit of self-consciousness, as Shiro flushed a similar shade of pink and stuttered, “Uh,” before pulling away like he’d been burned.

Which is a bad move. The distance absolutely jars Lance. Sends him practically reeling and forces him to hide what mortification has crossed his face with a weak smile that gives way to his disappointment now that he realizes the fantasy is over. That maybe, just maybe, Shiro was starting to see just how much of a needy and demanding cock-tease he was of a mate, and will severe things while he still had a—

“Hey, hey, hey,” Shiro hissed, grabbing Lance’s face in hand and searching the glossy blue’s already mapping out a future of tragedy without him. He finds devotion in Shiro’s gaze, counters it with disbelief, and feels it wither under the alpha’s intensity as he pulled him close. Cut the distance between them in half, then _more,_ when Lance sagged willingly enough. “Enough of that,” Shiro growled. “There’s only room for one insecure mess in this relationship and I already called dibs.”

“Not fair,” Lance mumbled weakly. “You can’t save some angst for the rest of us rejects?”

Shiro takes the humor with a grain of salt, knowing full well that Lance had his ways of deflecting, much like the rest of them, but there was no ignoring the way Lance’s scent had sharpened when he pulled back too far. The near frantic pull of Lance’s hands on his shirt as he clung almost desperately to the fabric.

He was…scared.

Shiro stiffened, “Was that…” and pinched his brows when the right words evaded him. “Was that…okay?”

Lance stayed silent for a moment, tucked safely against the steady rise and fall of Shiro’s chest, before nodding minutely. “W-What about—um.” Lance cleared his throat when his voice caught. “What about you?” He asked. “Was that…okay for you? I know you didn’t—”

“Have to,” Shiro finished softly for him. “I wanted you to feel good, Lance. To see if I could help take the edge off. I know you’ve been uncomfortable.”

And that, for some reason, gets Lance grinning again. He straightens, chin tilted a bit higher in confidence, and Shiro drinks in the sight with a bashful smile of his own as Lance leered, “Well you did much more than just take the edge off, _alpha._ ”

Shiro shivered.

It was far too easy for Lance to draw him back in like this, so Shiro made quick work of his sweatshirt—what he’d been doing when he’d first pulled away from Lance in the beginning—and holds it out for the omega to take with a quick clear of his throat.

“Just until we can get back,” Shiro explains hastily. And when Lance doesn’t say anything in response, adds, “I promise I’ll take care of you properly, then.”

And there it is.

If Shiro making Lance climax against a tree in the middle of a forest didn’t do it, then it’s the promise of Shiro staying around to take care of Lance during the worst of his heat that makes his brain crash. It doesn’t compute.

Sure, Lance had thought about it. Was thinking about it right now, even, given the current suggestion on the alpha’s part. How Shiro would probably pamper him. Make sure he was well fed and hydrated through it all before asking him what things were okay and what things weren’t. And when Lance did go into heat, out of his mind with lust and drenched in his own slick, he had no doubt that Shiro would absolutely wreck him. Tear him apart and put him back together over and over again. Just like he would knot him.

 _Breed_ him.

The heat in his gut stirs again, and the sharpness in his scent becomes so overwhelmingly apparent that Shiro inhales deeply, inquisitively, and his eyes darken a shade in that predatory way that makes Lance’s air catch. His scent glands start throbbing with want, and he knows he could ask Shiro to relieve that pressure, but he’s not sure how to ask in a way that didn’t end with him face down, ass up, and Shiro’s teeth lodged around his jugular.

So he kisses Shiro, something quick and endearingly grateful, before flashing a depleted smile his way that gets the alpha blinking.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

His subtle reply.

It’s stupid and tender, like the rom-coms Hunk forces all of them to watch sometimes, but there’s a simplicity to it that leaves no room for Shiro’s self-destructive tendencies and enabling anxiety, for Lance’s trust issues and questionable self worth, and gives them something to look forward to.

A good after all the bad.

“ _Ah-hem._ ”

Lance doesn’t _squeak_ — _Shiro—_ but he _is_ startled by Pidge’s rather sudden appearance and the pairing look of unadulterated disdain that twists her features into a disgusted grimace.

“You assholes are _so lucky_ I can smell your hormones from a mile away, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to sick Hunk on Keith before he caught wind of you horndogs. And we _both_ know Shiro would have never been able to live that one down. Like, at all.”

Pidge glared harder, hands high on her hips, glasses askew, and shovels her disappointment between the two of them equally.

Her shirt had been tied in a knot about her waist some time during the exercise, her sports bra smudged with dirt and stray pine needles alike, and despite the embarrassment at being found in a compromising position with his mate, there was a pleased note that rumbled up through Shiro at the fact that Hunk and Keith obviously hadn’t taken it easy on her during their practice.

Katie was tough as nails, had been for years now, and was determined as all get out after the disappearance of her brother to get stronger. But the bottom line was that she still hadn’t presented. She couldn’t turn, yet, and therefore couldn’t quite keep up with the rest of pack like they could, her.

Still, Pidge never failed to give them a run for their money. Outsmarting them through sheer wit and her photographic memory of the land, fighting techniques, sometimes even their own preferences down to the stride they favored or trails they were most comfortable with.

It made them vulnerable to ambush.

Vulnerable to _traps._

“Who was it this time?”

“Who do you think?”

Pidge flashed Shiro a mischievous grin as Keith and Hunk broke through the small clearing, her front row of teeth stained a bright red as she wiped a scuff of blood from under nose and found her own spot amongst the rest of them.

Keith had the time, and the resentment, to ram his knee into the girls shoulder as he passed, consciously kneading his own tender flesh at the joint where Pidge had jumped him from above. Girl was small, but her legs were _lethal_.

“You could’ve snapped my neck,” he growled, though there wasn’t any real bite to it.

And even if there were, Pidge merely waved a hand, “You’re exaggerating, Keith,” and made room for Hunk to plop down in the dirt beside her. The beta was probably grateful for the new distraction—i.e new _target_ —considering he was usually the one on the receiving end of Pidge’s experimental take-downs. Coming back from training with a bruised gut or a crick in his neck more often than not.

“Hunk didn’t just get his throat ripped into recently, though,” Keith countered, to which Pidge intercepted with a, _ub-bup-bup_ and a dismissive wag of her finger, “No.”

Pidge inclined her head Shiro’s way, and Hunk flashed Keith a look of sympathy, as if the beta already new the alpha had lost the second he complained, before Pidge put the final nail in the coffin. “I’ll have you know that when Shiro had his arm first ripped off, I still took his ass down not two weeks after. I don’t discriminate.”

“She really doesn’t.”

Lance piped up, which had all eyes turning his way, even Shiro’s who, seeming to realize their incredibly close proximity, flushed red to tips of his ears, sputtered a soft apology, and gave Lance at least a foot of space so he could at least see who it was he was talking too.

“Sorry,” Shiro says again; sheepishly this time.

Lance just pats a reassurance into the alpha’s broad chest and peeks further out from over the man’s shoulder to repeat himself. “It’s true,” he says. “I remember going on a run after I broke my ankle, and this gremlin over here nearly broke it _again,_  shoving me so hard I went and fell off the damn trail.”

Pidge made a face at Lance, and Lance nagged her back with his own pointed look as Shiro snapped his gaze downward and made a strangled sound of horror.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “ _That’s_ how you fractured it? I thought you said you tripped.”

“More like he narrowly escaped being murdered,” Hunk huffed from his spot. “While you were busy working on your PT, Pidge here started coming for us weak links, which, by the way, man?” Hunk shoved up to his feet with a grunt, slapped a hand to Keith’s shoulder heartily, and gave the alpha a genuine smile of gratitude. “Thanks for taking one for the team. I really appreciate it.”

“Wait, so now _I’m_ the weak link?” Keith sputtered. “Since when?”

“It’s nothing personal, dude” Hunk assured.

And Pidge followed said assurance with a less than gentle pat to Keith’s shoulder blade as she sighed, “It’s just business.”

“Guys,” Shiro chided. “C’mon. Stop picking on Keith and focus on what’s important. He’s making great strides despite his circumstances and is becoming an alpha anyone would be proud to have.”

An alpha _Shiro_ was proud to have.

He sends Keith a look to make sure he understands, trying his best to infuse as much truth and devotion into the statement as he can, and feels his stomach flip a bit when Keith smiles back. Something shy and raw.

“You really don’t think I’m the weak link?” He asks.

And there’s vulnerability there that Shiro wants to cut through immediately with a quick and sturdy, “ _No._ ” Shakes his head in an almost violent frenze to get his point across. “I’ve never thought of you like that, Keith.”

_Never like that..._

“Though I’m still going to have to ask you to stay behind for some extra training.”

Pidge snorted, “Ha!”

And Shiro shot the girl a cutting glare as he continued on giving some last minute instructions. “The three of you can go wash up and rest for now. Keith, I need you back here in thirty so we can go over some exercises, alright?”

His pack nodded, “Yes, alpha,” and Shiro responded with a sharp nod.

“I’ll see the rest of you at six.”

* * *

Shiro tells Keith to meet back with him in thirty, but it’s with a dejected glance down at the watch Hunk had loaned him that Keith realizes, yep. The man was twenty-five minutes late.

Twenty-five minutes late and looking like he’d be _longer_ with the way things were headed now. So it’s ultimately up to Keith to try and occupy himself best he can as he paced the repetitive length of the too small opening back and forth, back and forth; nothing but trees and shrubbery for as far as the eye could see.

What better place to leave Keith all by his lonesome.

Said no one _ever._

Keith had come to grinding halt in the center of the clearing, hands rested on the jut of his hips and head inclined in a way that implicated thought, but was really his way of sizing up the surrounding trees. He didn’t think them too intimidating at first. Gets about a good six feet up the first one and has to scale back down when a too loose foothold makes him nearly piss himself.

So climbing’s a hard _no_.

And it’s back to the drawing board.

Keith kills another ten minutes this way, thirty-five in total having passed since his arrival, and he’s beginning to wonder if it’s worth waiting any longer for the man unlikely to show up. Especially when there was a possibility Shiro had forgotten him all together which, _ow._

Cold daggers set their sights on Keith’s throbbing heart, but it can’t feel any worse than the torment he would go through knowing Shiro had shown up _after_ he’d left, and he hadn’t been there to greet him.

So Keith roots himself.

Ends up waving a stick around in poor imitation of a samurai sword, and attacking low hanging limbs with less than enthusiastic grunts as he tried to work out some of his restlessness.

“Jesus,” Keith groaned after a good minute of the humiliating display. “Who am I? _Lance_?

Keith tossed the stick. And by toss, he meant hurled in a low whistle of speed as it cut cleanly through the air and disappeared a lengthy distance away that rivaled that of any pro football player.

It’s nice. It lets off some pent up energy he didn’t even know he had in him, and left the taut muscle in the strain of his shoulders singing with overwhelming relief and gratitude. Sends a strike of pleasure straight through his gut that inclines him to do it again, and again, and again, and again. Until he’s thrown every throwable object there is within a ten foot radius of himself.

Keith finally gases out; blissfully fatigued. And he decides he won’t be getting up from where he’s slumped himself against a boulder until Shiro made his undoubtedly, sheepish appearance.

Which he does.

Almost ten minutes later.

The alpha’s scent breaks the treeline long before Shiro does, and that right there is saying something; it’s so potent. So obviously wound up in a way that made Keith’s own inner companion squirm as the implications of it’s sweetness registered. Then blanketed his senses in a sickening permeation that made his head spin and mouth water all at the same time.

It doesn’t help that Shiro is flushed, either. Winded by more than just the short run. And when he ducks his head, “Sorry about that,” laughing breathlessly in a way that made his smile almost dopey, it’s practically impossible for Keith to hold a grudge.

“I know I said to meet in thirty, but Lance was…and then he started to…and I just couldn’t…”

Keith cocks a brow, his silence speaking for itself, and Shiro’s grin goes sour at the corners when he realizes the rating of his current sentence will change to explicit real soon if he continued. He grimaced, “On second thought,” and waved a hand between them as if to clear the air. “Nevermind. Let’s just pretend I didn’t say any of that and we can get started so we have some time to relax, sound good?”

Keith shrugged, trying and failing to appear nonchalant as his senses went haywire in the back of his mind. Because with or without Shiro’s explanation, Keith was well versed enough to know that that sweet edge of sugar currently piggybacking on Shiro’s usual scent was one of shared arousal. A hint of underlying heat that didn’t belong to Shiro in the slightest.

 **Omega** , his alpha provided helpfully.

Keith turned his gaze away.

“So what’s this special training you’ve got planned for me, huh? Unless not knowing is a part of the surprise.” Keith’s aiming to tease. He’s trying to save face over all the frustration, stress, _jealousy_ , that’s turning his thought process into a fucking warzone. But the sentiment must fall flat because Shiro’s expression doesn’t change. Still pinched in that grimace of a smile that shines a light on his wariness and highlights a certain anxiety.

Just like he’d been when he’d first brought up the courting.

Keith winced.

“This is going to be your first full moon, Keith,” Shiro declared robotically. As if he’d been rehearsing the conversation the entire run in. And when Keith nodded, sobering into a steadfast frown himself, Shiro took it upon himself to close the short distance between them and place a grounding hand on the smaller alpha’s shoulder. “I won’t bullshit you. We’re all very aware of the potential threat poised against us right now, and I want—” Shiro cut himself off. Took in a shuddering breath. “I just want to make sure this experience goes as smoothly as possible for you. For all of us. Safety is a high concern for me right now and it doesn’t help that you’re vulnerable like this, Keith. Stronger, but still vulnerable. And Sendak’s going to know that.”  

Keith clenched his jaw, and somehow had the strength to speak through the tension as he grit, “Vulnerable, how?” He doesn’t dare avert his gaze either. Damned to show even a sliver of fear that Shiro’s words were inflicting. So he keeps his expression blank, if not determined, and focuses on the effect his feelings are having on his pheromones.

_Just breathe, Keith. Just breathe._

_You’re fine._

Until he’s not.

Shiro’s fingers skim gently over his scarred scent gland, the pads of his fingers like sandpaper and rose petals all in one conflicting rush that has him wincing, then leaning into the contact as the initial pain eased.

“When Sendak bit you here,” Shiro started carefully, “He opened your body up to something not even I as your pack alpha can replicate. You’re susceptible to commands, now, Keith.”

Keith’s gaze flickered. “Commands?”

And Shiro nodeded. “Sire commands,” he clarified. “Just like the ones you used on Lance, but ten times more saturated.”

The statement is like a cold bucket of water and Keith feels as though he’s been dunked. Submerged in a shocking chill that burrows deep into his bones and has him blanching with shame. He’d seen what an alpha command could do to someone. What it had done to _Lance_. Even fighting with every blood cell, every bit of strength Lance had, and the omega had a lot, it still wasn’t enough to lift the biological paralysis that came with a simple tone of voice.

“Do you understand now?” Shiro asked.

Keith nodded his head violently, feeling his lungs struggle under his demand for oxygen as he let the emotions wash over him. Left him wrung out on adrenaline as he began to understand more and more of what Shiro was getting at.

“Once an outside alpha gets control of the head alpha, the whole pack is now at risk. If Sendak ever got ahold of you, and trust me, he would try everything he can to do that, I wouldn't be strong enough to fight you off. Not when there’s two of you.” Shiro looks like he’s going to say more, but promptly snaps his mouth shut. Thinks better of it. “In order for me to feel at ease, in order for me to feel like I’ve done everything physically possible to keep you safe from that. I’m…Keith I _have_ to train you to resist alpha commands. I have to.”

 _Resist alpha commands_. Shiro says it like it’s an apology. Like he’s reluctant, and almost feeling guilty that he’s having to ask this of Keith.

So Keith tries to make it easier on the man by looking enthusiastic. Even if his smile doesn’t come out eager.

But at least it’s a start.

“How do we do that?”

Thinking back on it, Keith probably should’ve accounted for the hesitant look in Shiro’s eyes. The flicker of wariness and something distinctly strained as the alpha gave him a quick once over and sighed; taking the loss in whatever waging battle had warred in his mind.

But Keith hadn’t.

And he would spend the rest of the evening wondering if that was the right move.

“I’m going to try and take you to your knees. It won’t be the same as if Sendak had done it, but it’ll be close enough. Close enough that it’s going to be hard to fight me, but I _want_ you to fight me, Keith. On every word I say. And anytime you think you might listen, anytime you think it isn’t worth it, fight it. No matter what I tell you. Got it?”

The vehemence in Shiro’s words rattle him, and although Keith feels himself nod, tongue working to swallow around the cotton in his mouth, he’s not entirely sure what it is that has Shiro so intense, until the alpha says,

“ **Drop**.”

_Oh, holy fu—_

Keith’s knees give out. One second he’s eye level with the alpha in front of him, the next he’s staring at a pulsating jugular as Shiro swallowed thickly and braced against Keith to offer some support. His hands had flown up in the crossfire of motion to pin Keith’s wrists at his sides, and Keith hears more than he sees the steadfast thud of the alpha’s knee as it slammed forward between his legs and pressed heavily between his thighs.

Offers him a failsafe of support should Keith’s grip fail from above, but only served to wrangle a wounded sound from high in his throat as the contact absolutely _burned_ him.

“Fight me, Keith,” Shiro huffs. “Fight me.”

And damn was Keith trying. He manages to get his feet up under him, no longer half sitting, half writhing on Shiro’s parting knee, but he’s panting raggedly at that. Physically exhausted, where Shiro was barely winded, and it’s then that Keith knows this is already a losing battle. They’re just getting started and he can hardly think. He can’t—

Shiro’s voice deepens, “ ** _Down,_** ” and Keith’s world fragments. He’s fighting every instinct, every muscle in his body that bore down on that tempting movement and twitched in agony when he refrained.

“Fight me, Keith.” Shiro orders again. “You’re not fighting.”

But he _was,_  his alpha snarls.

Or, Keith thought he was? Did he even want to? Was it—was it even worth it in the end?

“ _Yes_ ,” Shiro breathed insistently. “Yes, Keith. Don’t let me win. Don’t let me ruin you. _Think.”_

Think? Think. Keith could do that. Keith did that all the time. He could—

“ **Down** ”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Keith choked. He threw his head back, moaning but not moving, shivering but not submitting, and groaning but not at all groveling as Shiro leaned in, panting against his ear.

“Calm down,” he ordered. “The faster you breathe, the easier my scent is going to affect you. Get your bearings. Figure out what’s going on around you and zero in on that. Where is the pack in comparison to me? What exit strategies can get you out of this? Focus, Keith. You’re not focusing.”

“I _am_ ,” Keith snarled. Felt another shudder rip through him when Shiro barked, “ **Down** ,” and sent him stumbling.

Need burns white hot in the pit of his gut. Twisting and careening about his organs as his alpha keened in his hindbrain and went slack at the hips. Collapsing in a shivery mess that he desperately wanted to mimic, but refused to as he kept his stance forcibly sturdy. He twists his wrists in the clasp of Shiro’s fingers a little, trying and failing to dislodge the grip, but even that saps a generous amount of energy and leaves him sagging.

 _Sobbing_.

“S-Shiro,” Keith gasped. “Shiro, I can’t—”

“You _can_ ,” Shiro huffed. “You can, Keith. It’s just two weak points, baby, just—”

Shiro came to a grinding halt, gaze snapping up at where Keith was staring at him intensely, and he felt something frigid with guilt rear its ugly head within him as he realized the extent of what it was he’d just said.

“Keith, I—” Shiro gapes, wordless and unable to form a coherent thought, and finds he doesn’t want to when Keith was staring at him like that. So...so _adoringly_.

Almost wanting.

It’s not dangerous at first, but then the alpha’s lips part, spit slick and pink, and Shiro feels that lone guilt pair with something pleasurable as he allowed himself a few more centimeters of space.

His pulse throbs. An open presentation of the effect Keith’s having on him, and the alpha’s eyes fixate quick on the jut of his jugular unabashedly. Tongue darting out almost out of reflex to wet the plump edge of his lower lip, while Shiro watched with thinning restraint.

How easy it would be for Shiro to take him like this, already so strung out on the need to submit, it would only take a few words of encouragement to get him desperate. _Willing._

It’s a thought that has his alpha restless within him. Pacing the confines of his inner consciousness with a mantra of _do it, do it, do it,_ and writhing when Shiro leans in, mouth just millimeters from Keith’s own, before breathing, “Take me down,” darkly.

Keith immediately lashes out.

He throws an elbow to Shiro’s throat. A weak elbow—weaker than what Keith was capable of—but it’s an elbow nonetheless, and the pressure jars Shiro enough as it cut up across his neck with surprising force, and hit right against his scent gland with a blinding shock of pain. He staggers. And Keith, flushed and damp with perspiration as he was, manages to take a step forward where Shiro had stepped back, before raising his hands in spar position.

“Finish it,” Shiro grates.

And Keith does.

 _Beautifully_.

Keith is smaller than Shiro, but he’s quick. His legs, paired with the contortion of his torso and the pivot of his ankle, catch at Shiro’s retreating heel, and trip him. Sending him flat on his ass and heaving for air when he goes to push himself upright and hits resistance. A panting, unsteady resistance, that settles its smug weight in the center of his lap and pins him where he lies.

Keith grins breathlessly, sweat trickling down the accentuated curve of the man’s alluring throat as he swallowed. “Did I win?” He asks.

Shiro flashes a dirty smile. “I dunno. Go down.”

Keith’s grips slackens, mouth falling open on a soft _oh_ , and Shiro takes the opportunity to lunge upwards, only making it as far as Keith’s shoulders before the alpha grit _no,_ and shoved back to gain control of the position again.

It’s impressive. His ability to spar in such a condition. _Under_ such conditions.

But he’s still no match for Shiro and his weight, and the hold he has on the man is weakening. Had been weakened the second Shiro flashed that devastatingly handsome smile, filled with such smug, blinding confidence, as he slowly, but surely, pried Keith’s hands off him. Finger by useless finger.

He gets a leg up. Shiro thrusts his hips into Keith’s, and if not for the terrifying way the world goes off center, Keith might’ve had it in him to moan as their bodies slotted together tightly. Ended with Shiro seated firmly between his thighs and pulling his upper lip back over his teeth in an imitation of a snarl.

Thick fingers locked almost painfully tight around Keith’s wrists, slamming the backs of his hands into the muddy ground below, and Keith feels a real snarl rip up through his throat as Shiro grinned down at him. _Growled_ down at him with no real heat, just to see Keith’s eyes flash in warning.

So he kicks out. Heels scuffing tracks into the dirt below, but Shiro doesn’t budge. In fact, his grip only grows tighter, and the grin he once sported turns increasingly somber as he watched Keith struggle.

“You’re losing,” the pack leader states grimly. “You’d be dead by now, if not completely incapacitated.”

And Keith _knows_ , Goddammit. He fucking knows he’s losing. If not for Shiro blatantly telling him, than for his alpha, who snarls and rips at the edges of his mind because losing meant death. Losing, meant the loss of his _pack_. Like this—

“Sendak would overpower me.” Shiro’s eyes darken; haunted, and Keith feels his heart jackhammer in his chest. “He’d puppet you to his advantage knowing I could never hurt you, and then rip out my throat where I stood. No negotiations,” Shiro murmured. “Then, once I was dead…once Sendak _knew_ I was dead, he’d go after Hunk. Kill him and Pidge the same way he did me, and Lance would only be lucky enough to meet the same fate, should Sendak not rape him right then and there and keep him as a trophy.”

Keith thrashed, igniting with rage, and the pain of going cold to hot in just a matter of seconds makes him gag with the imagery; feels his wolf’s hackles raise, snarling and feverish this time, as the need to shift, to overpower, to protect, to _fight_ Shiro grew to an almost unbearable point.

“Do you understand the importance of this now?” Shiro pushed. “Understand that if it’s not me, it’s going to be you that will have take my place as head alpha should anything happen to me. It’s shitty, you’re nowhere near ready, and it’s a lot of responsibility to be putting on your shoulders like this, and for that, I’m sorry. But Keith. You would have to do it. You’d just have to. Otherwise, Hunk will die.”

No.

“Pidge will suffer worse than Hunk or I ever could.”

 _No_.

“And Lance will end up tied down somewhere, locked away in some room, while Sendak forces him to take litter after litter just because he’d know it would _ruin me_.”

**_No._**

Keith’s fist hits clean against Shiro’s jaw, his wrists bloody and bruised from the force it takes to pull free from Shiro’s grasp, and it’s nothing but white noise from then on. A sharp ringing in the base of his skull that drowns out Shiro’s grunt, and drives him out of his mind with rage as his wolf surged beneath his skin.

Had him kicking up against Shiro’s stomach, and pushing as hard as he could physically manage, to roll back and up onto his knees in one fluid movement.

Shiro gasps. Clutches at his midsection with a barely there wince, and when he looks up, he barely has time to brace for impact before Keith’s colliding with him. Snarling, spitting. Not a sliver of violet remaining in the swallow of his pupils as his body shook all over and his fists balled.

He’s not hurting Shiro, not like he could, but it’s clear it’s taking every bit of restraint to refrain from doing so as he crushed his forearm to Shiro’s windpipe and pinned him once again.

“K-Keith,” Shiro chokes, scrabbling at the pressure. “Keith st— _ah-_ ” his voice gurgles, and something shifts grotesquely under Keith’s grip with a low and distinct _pop_ that sends Shiro’s body spasming beneath him.

_Pain._

_Pain. Hurt. Pain. Fear._

**_Worry._ **

Shiro’s worried. And Keith, like a moth to a flame, is drawn to that. He knows be needs to reign in it. To _stop._ He needs to stop.

Stopstopstopstop—

_Shiro._

The alpha is silent below him. No longer gasping for air pitifully. And Keith wonders, if only for a split second, if he’s ever heard something sound wounded.

So absolutely _gutted._

And Shiro must be wondering the same thing because he gapes up at him, eyes as big as saucers, and watches all the energy shiver out of him in a depleting rush.

Keith slips. Dazed from the heady surge of power and will, and falls off to the side with a twitch of his fingers to show for it as his inner wolf went silent; numb.

It could be seconds, it could be hours before he feels hands against his face. Fingers carding through his dark locks and _petting_ him. Still so gentle and loving after his abuse. He’s not sure if his hum of gratitude is any sort of appreciated, let alone heard, but he hopes it will ease the waft of worry scenting heavily above him.

“Keith?” Shiro gasps. “Keith.”

Hands jostle. Pull him into warm arms.

“Oh, God. Shit. Shit, shit. Hunk!”

A wounded sound.

“Hunk, please! Hurry, _Goddammit_!” Shiro growls, and Keith wishes he could reach up to soothe the sound because he’s _fine_ , but everything’s fading to a dull lull, and Keith can’t feel much of anything anymore.

So he lays there.

Just listening to the sound of Shiro’s panicked breaths.

And waits for someone to come reassure the alpha that he’s completely and utterly _fine.  
_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eunioa:  
> Another day, another melon.  
> Hi everyone! Long time no see! Nutella and I have been sitting on this chapter for a hot second now, but life started kicking ass and taking names (as it should and always does) so it’s been hard finding the time to sync up. But we’re here with another phat update and we hope it makes up for the delay! We’re steadily working through this story and trying to build up more chapters to stay ahead of the game so thank you all so much for your patience. It is very much appreciated. We look forward to seeing you in the next update and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Nutella:  
> We love all of you so much. Your comments are just wonderful and kind, and you all are so forgiving and understanding of our long stretches. My house is bought and we are moved in, just gotta finish unpacking BUT now that some semblance of normalcy has be achieved Eunioa and I have been able to sync up and write! We hoped you enjoyed the kinky and the action. We're getting super close to the HUNT! Please take care and continue to be amazing people! <33333

**Author's Note:**

> This story is what happens when two writers obsessed with one another decide to write together x3  
> We hope you enjoy it so far. Let us know what you think! <3
> 
> Come yell at us on Tumblr!  
> [Eunioa9](https://eunioa9.tumblr.com/)  
> [Nutella0Mutt](http://nutella0mutt.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Incredible art by [Ashterism](http://ashterism.tumblr.com/)!  
> Please DO NOT repost! Instead, you can like it [HERE](http://nutella0mutt.tumblr.com/post/175256312996/falling-to-the-wolves-by-nutella0mutt-and)  
> 


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